The Misfortune
by GillianRose
Summary: Preseries: How did Mal and Inara fall in love? New chapter, His Mrs. Janisch, Part 6. Inara returns to Serenity. Firefly does not belong to me. Many thanks to Charlie BZ and browncoat 2x2 for all the help!
1. Chapter 1

1Disclaimer: I own nothing! /weeps and gnashes teeth/ Just waiting for my BDSequel!

A/N: This is inspired by one particular frame - "Precious Buddha" - from "Better Days." The bulk of what happens is preseries. I have some ideas for more, but I'm not sure which direction the characters will take me. Please, please read and review :)

She'd given up on lying to herself a long time ago. It was part of her training. As a Companion, self-deception was ineffective at best. In the worst of situations, refusing to acknowledge the truth put oneself in the kind of danger that diplomacy, charm, and control could not encompass. Inara believed this wholeheartedly, had saved herself more than once by seeing with clear eyes and making an unvarnished judgement about the gap between expressed desires and true intent.

At the Training House, she'd woven this belief into every lesson she taught, and prayed that her students didn't deceive themselves as to its importance.

Truth. She loved him.

Truth. She didn't want to love him.

Truth. She didn't want him to know.

The shock, months earlier, of having him, _him,_ invade her mind while she shared her bed with a perfectly attractive and skilled Client...that had taken much time and meditation to accept. If she had accepted it, was that another deception? She barely _knew_ him! Another Guild lesson: one's own mind is private and sacrosanct. No need for a Companion to dismay herself over whatever erotic image surfaces in her mind. Denial, more self-deception, inefficient, unnecessarily frustrating. Accept, enjoy, respect the unfathomable nature of the human mind. Welcome sexual fulfillment - a pleasureable necessity. A satisfied Companion sleeps better, maintains a pleasant demeanor with far less effort. Good for the complexion. Myriad physiological and psychological benefits. She knew this, had counseled as much to other Companions. So why did she find it hard to meet his eyes when she returned to Serenity? She didn't know what appalled her more - the fantasy itself or her resulting mortification when, in subsequent appointments, her imagination stubbornly refused to move on to other possibilities.

The Guild discouraged idle fantasy. To indulge in one overly specific area of sexual expression left a Companion in danger of being less receptive, less sensitive to the needs of a Client. Better that a Companion educated herself in all the realms of fantasy, in the countless ephemeral layers of possible meaning behind each symbolic act, gesture, persona. She should know all this, yet remain a generalist, the better to share a Client's appreciation for, attachment to, a particular erotic dreamscape.

She consoled herself that the insufferable man would never know this particular idiosyncracy of her mind, and that, given time, the idea of him would lose its peculiar erotic charge.

In the meantime, Inara enjoyed the new friendship she had found with Kaylee. Their upbringings could not have been more different, but Kaylee's generous heart was irresistable. Inara found herself thinking of the younger woman often, when work called her away from Serenity. She'd take extra care to notice the details of the parties and cultural events she attended, the better to entertain Kaylee with when she returned. She'd smile, inwardly of course, over any particularly funny or dramatic piece of gossip, thinking of what Kaylee would say.

"They were both missing from the board meeting. And the next afternoon, the treasurer resigned her post!" Inara passed the small, painted tin of shortbread cookies to her friend.

Kaylee accepted the tin with a sigh, nibbled at the edge of the cookie she'd chosen, then pointed it at Inara with a knowing gesture. "See, it's not just the menfolk that let their nethers make fools of 'em. Once a girl learns what she likes, she can bargain herself a world of trouble over a sweet-" She popped the rest of the treat into her mouth with a saucy wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I suppose that's entirely true, in some cases." Not the most comfortable topic. "Did I tell you about the gown the adjutant's daughter was wearing? It was exactly, exactly what I would choose for you, _mei mei_ - exquisite!" Kaylee happily abandoned her discourse on the treacheries of womanly desire for news on the gown, the music, and all the harmless pleasures of the gala.

Inara loved listening to Kaylee. The mechanic's cheerful and sunny disposition was not the result of shallow thinking; for all her affection, Kaylee could be remarkably astute in her observations about people. She had a gift for mimicry, and had Inara close to tears of laughter many times as she recounted the crew's squabbling and misadventures.

Much later, "Thanks for the cookies, Inara." Kaylee eyed the small tin, now nearly empty except for some crumbs and waxed paper. "It's been a while. Captain always buys gingersnaps since he found out I like 'em best, but we run right out. I can't seem to leave 'em alone. So he hides some, and surprises me with 'em later." She continued as Inara busied herself sweeping shortcake crumbs off the couch and into her hand. "He's a good Captain. My pop met him - wouldn'ta let me go with anyone shifty."

Inara realized it would be a tactical mistake, as well as insensitive, to criticize the Captain to Kaylee. Her friend was wholly devoted to her Captain, and worried about his continuing solitude. She knew that Kaylee was convinced Inara took too little notice of the Captain. This reassured Inara, in the days after the Misfortune, as she privately called her imagination's inexplicable rebellion.

"Ain't right. How's a man supposed to feel easier about life alone all the time. And when we're dirtside he don't even go to any of the whore-" Kaylee looked aghast at her unguarded words, afraid she had slighted her friend.

Inara's smile reassured Kaylee. "I'm sure the Captain wouldn't appreciate us entertaining ourselves with his private affairs. Tell me about the young man you danced with at the cantina last night!"

For all Inara tried to deflect or dismiss Kaylee's pro-Mal propaganda, she knew it had affected her. She began to notice the affection he usually showed her friend, the way his voice gentled toward her even during emergencies. How he patiently answered questions, from her, that would have earned anyone else a glare if not a scathing Mandarin curse. As Inara's attachment to Kaylee grew, so did the esteem in which she held Mal for treating her friend with such care.

She told herself it was for Kaylee's sake that she felt such dismay the first time she saw him come back bloody from a job, slumped low in the passenger's side of the mule while Zoe drove into the cargo bay. She told herself it bothered her that Kaylee was sure to be terribly upset. He nearly fell out of the mule, then staggered haltingly toward the infirmary with Zoe limping beside him, providing what support she could. She told herself it was on Kaylee's behalf, her desperate hope that the blood on his shirt wasn't more than he could spare. She hated to see him so quiet, his mouth a terse dash across a face not usually so pale. He was filthy - clearly the altercation had included grappling in the dirt with whomever had wielded the knife. His sweat had drenched his hair and the few places on his shirt the blood hadn't reached. And later, when she reflected on the fact that she had abandoned her usual calm pace and run to the infirmary to see what help she could be to Zoe - well, it must have been to get him cleaned up and stabilized before Kaylee emerged from the engine room.

"Who's minding my boat whilst you fuss over me?" Hoarse, not quite strong enough to be called a growl.

"Wash'll call me if anything's amiss. Zoe's in no kinda condition to be up and about, bruised up like she is." Kaylee rested trembling fingers on the bed's metal railing as her eyes took in the quantities of gauze wrapped around her Captain's middle. " And someone needs to keep an eye on them bandages of yours. In case they - " she broke off, pressed her lips together with a tiny shake of her head.

"By the time Wash calls you it could be later than we can manage. He's liable to be flitting back and forth to Zoe all night besides. You get yourself back on the job - I have the intercom if I get too bored." Mal would not rest easy and so...

"I'll stay with him, _mei mei_." She was wide awake anyway, had ventured to the infirmary thinking she was sure to find Kaylee there, and heard the distress in her friend's voice. Inara opened her arms to embrace Kaylee, was disturbed at the fear and tension radiating from the mechanic's muscles. Inara's hand went to her friend's hair in a soothing gesture. She murmured, "Don't worry yourself so terribly. It'll be a relief for him knowing you're seeing to Serenity. I'll sit here with him and read my book. Maybe you both can get a little sleep."

She raised her eyes to look for the stool she'd seen earlier, and found Mal watching her and Kaylee with an unreadable expression on his bruised and exhausted face. "Just tell him good night - you'll see him in the morning," she whispered again.

Inara watched Kaylee squeeze Mal's hand gently, press the shadow of a kiss to his forehead, and retreat quickly in the direction of the engine room. When the Companion turned, he was still regarding her with an almost challenging expression. She guided the low stool a place at the left of his bed and set her basket down next to it. Aware that his eyes were still on her, she retrieved a quilted silk wrap, unfolded it, and wrapped it around her shoulders. His expression turned quizzical. "I found myself quite chilled in the shuttle tonight for some reason. There's no problem with climate control," she added quickly, before he could take offense at a perceived slight against his ship, "warm air is circulating, I just couldn't get warm myself. I brought a blanket as well in case you weren't...sufficiently...or if Kaylee" her voice trailed off. "Can I get you anything? Are you thirsty? Cold?" she laid her hand against his outer bicep and felt the sudden rise of goosebumps. "You _are_ cold! Would it kill you to mention it? Do you enjoy being wretched?" She was unaccountably annoyed as she bent to unpack a colorful woven blanket, but she made her expression placid as she shook it out and laid it over him.

Just before she sat down, he finally spoke, his hoarse voice slow with pain and fatigue. "It smells like you. Same as how your shuttle smells." A pause. "A sight better than infirmary smell."

"I've achieved my supreme ambition, I'm more alluring than the smell of antiseptic and old bandages. Captain, you say the sweetest things, I may swoon."

"Now I'm liable to go to sleep and dream that I'm-" Mal seemed to lose focus. He closed his eyes for a long time. His hand brushed the spot on his bicep where she had touched him. "Not what you're accustomed to when you got a man on his back, I expect."

It would be terribly awkward explaining to Kaylee why she had strangled the Captain. "Annoy me tomorrow with your treasure trove of witticisms. You should sleep now."

"Bit sore at the moment. Are you the kind of mercy angel that fetches whiskey?" A faint smile telegraphed across his face, there and gone.

"That's crystalline logic - a hangover along with everything else you happened upon today. Is it time for your pain medication?" Inara did a quick estimate of the hours since Mal had arrived in the infirmary.

"Waitin' on that 'til morning. Don't want our stock to run low when we're not near a port to stock up. Whiskey?" He mimed tipping a cup to his mouth, then grimaced.

Inara ignored this. "I have painkillers in my shuttle. Let me go and get them, and you can pay me back when next you replenish yours. You can't go through the night like this, it's indecent."

"What's a Companion need this kind of painkillers for?" It didn't sound like a question when he used that absolutely flat voice. Mal was suddenly wide awake, his eyes scanning her face, neck, arms. Everywhere her skin was bare, and Inara realized how many times he'd looked at her in just this way. She'd noticed, just never realized he'd been checking for bruises. "Or is that _indecent_, too."

"I equipped a medkit for different eventualities when I began traveling. It's only prudent to be prepared. Accidents happen." She let her gaze wander over him. "I don't suppose that's news to you. I'm going to my shuttle - please try not to get stabbed _afresh_ before I return." Inara shrugged the wrap from her shoulders - she certainly wasn't cold any more. She set it on the stool, a bit briskly, and pivoted to leave, her skirts spinning around her.

"Inara, wait." What stopped her from pretending to ignore him was the way his voice sounded when he said her name. He didn't say it often. She was "Ambassador," or less flattering nicknames. So she turned.

"I'm not in that bad a way, really, although I wouldn't refuse the whiskey. Just need some peace and quiet to shut my eyes and settle down." He hesitated. "Say you brought a book in that basket?"

Inara nodded, and in the spirit of charity decided not to point out to him that he couldn't both read and close his eyes simultaneously. She crossed the few steps to the side of Mal's bed, leaned down, and retrieved the book from the basket.

"What's it about?" She had expected an impertinent remark about a Companion's likely reading material, but none came.

"It's an old text from Earth-that-Was. Early 20th century. West with the Night." Mal continued to listen, so she went on, ruffling the pages of the closed book with her thumb. "The author was a pilot, she flew extensively around the continent of Africa," Inara shrugged, wondering at her sudden shyness. "If you like adventure stories, it's -"

"Read to me?"

Inara blinked.

"Don't make a fuss, it's just I could use something to concentrate my mind on to get to sleep, and your voice has a...soothing quality to it. I expect you know that."

Inara nodded, then quietly reclaimed her seat on the stool, her wrap folded on her lap. As she began the first page, she saw Mal close his eyes and smile faintly. In a very short while she heard his breathing change, but she continued to read aloud. After a while, it seemed only sensible to make herself comfortable by propping her folded wrap against the bed rail and leaning against its softness, just resting her cheek on the edge of his pillow.

"Inara." Zoe's voice and warm hand on her wrist. Inara opened her eyes. Satisfied that the Companion was awake, Zoe eased herself onto the bunk adjacent to Mal's and slowly stretched out, watching Inara all the while.

"He wouldn't rest with Kaylee here, and she was terribly worried about him." Inara tucked her wrap snugly around her shoulders. "He's sleeping," she added unnecessarily after a look at Mal's closed eyes and relaxed expression.

"He's been tore up much worse," said Zoe calmly. "I'll stay by until he wakes up." The first mate's tone was pleasant, but Inara heard the dismissal behind the words.

Later, after washing her face properly and stretching out in her own comfortable bed, she thought about opening her eyes to see his sleeping face, and it was with this thought that she fell asleep for the last few hours of the night.


	2. Bread

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Just waiting for my big damn sequel!

Inara examined the flowers again, a pure pleasure. Abundant and lush, picked at dawn, he'd had them ready for her departure. As sweet as he was generous, Janisch had teased her that she spent more time smiling over the flowers than the discreetly extravagant earrings he'd surprised her with. Commissioned from her favorite designer on Sihnon, only the most discerning eye could identify the deceptively simple design as a wildly opulent luxury. An entirely new level of prestige and privlege - an extravagance only to be recognized by the educated eyes of the wealthy and fashionable. And she loved them, even more than last year's birthday present. But the flowers were more a reflection of how she felt this morning, blushing and wild. He'd been (though she'd never be indiscreet enough to admit it in words) her favorite client for years, charming and intelligent and sexually, far more of a luxury than the earrings. She knew she'd be smiling for days, long after Serenity had flown away from his world.

He'd tucked a few long stems of rosemary in among the lilies and irises, the inky delphinia, multicolored snapdragons, and nodding cosmos. When she touched the stiff, dusky leaves the fragrance rose to set her smiling with a new whim. There were a handful of gourmet shops only a short detour from her shuttle's path back to Serenity. Inara piloted there quickly, an expansive smile on her face as she mentally composed a short list of supplies.

She met Kaylee on the stairs between her shuttle and the walkway over the cargo bay, and laughed to see her friend's face light up at the sight of the armful of flowers Inara carried. "Shiny! Ain't that the most romantic thing...Can I help?" She eyed the basket tucked against Inara's other side.

"Here, take the flowers." Kaylee rose on tiptoes, nearly skipping with delight. "I put some in a vase in my shuttle, but we can all enjoy these on the table." The light dancing in Kaylee's eyes, the happy glow of her skin - Inara knew women who'd spend a fortune chasing the chance at such beauty.

"We don't have much in the way of vases, but these'd look pretty in that old pitcher with the jiggly handle - no one uses it anyhow."

"I have something else in mind, just a little treat, maybe you can keep me company while I get it ready?"

"Sure I will - just a couple things Captain wants me to see to while we're dirtside. They shouldn't take too long." Kaylee snuggled her shoulder into Inara's arm with a coy smile. "Besides, I want to hear all about your appointment in the meantime. Good sex?" They crossed the threshold into the tiny galley.

Inara didn't actually giggle, but let her smile widen into the contented grin she'd been repressing on her errands. She felt herself blush with pleasure remembering the night before. "Mmmmmm." The blush deepened, she was tingling and wanted to stretch every limb like a very spoiled housecat. "I would be _entirely_ pleased to enjoy this gentleman's company again." At that, she very nearly did giggle, just a bit.

Regaining her discipline, she turned Kaylee's attention to the bouquet now crowding itself into a battered wooden pitcher. "These sprigs are fresh rosemary. I made a stop before my return and got a few ingredients." Inara withdrew the stems, taking care not to disturb the arrangement Kaylee had made with the other flowers. "I thought we could bake it into some bread. I have a baked chicken and some salad greens, some oil, and I even found olives and garlic," she continued as she rinsed the herbs and began to pat them dry with a clean towel.

While Inara was speaking, Kaylee had unpacked the basket and stowed the greens in the cooling compartment. The rest of the ingredients she'd laid out on the counter in her precise mechanic's way. She fished a mixing bowl from the depths of a lower cabinet, then turned and let her eyes glance over her friend. "Everything's ready, but you can't mix the dough like that." Her eyes fell fondly on Inara's embroidered silk gown. "I gotta change too," she added, finding smears of engine grease on her sleeves. "I know what we can use, for tops at least. I'll get us some bottoms, be right back."

Inara wasn't accustomed to neglecting details, but she had completely forgotten her lack of appropriate cooking aprons or other casual clothes. She had packed conservatively when she'd moved into the shuttle some weeks before, and hadn't thought she'd be cooking. She hadn't figured on a night with Janisch making her feel so impulsively generous. And if she were to be honest with herself, Inara admitted, she ought to name _relief_ as not the least among her feelings this morning. She had spent an exquisite night - and morning - in the arms of the most virile and sexually attentive man she'd ever hoped to meet. And Mal had not appeared in her thoughts at all. Well, once, after dinner. A glance at the whiskey in Janisch's glass set her to wondering what name she would give the color of his hair. But that was inconsequential. His stupid hair was brown. She was free.

"Inara - hey, Inara." Kaylee had returned with what looked like two pairs of loose-fitting shorts. She reached into a narrow cabinet to the left of the galley's entryway and withdrew two very worn men's shirts. She glanced down the hall, then began unfastening her overalls. "Cap'n has me keep these here to use like a smock when I'm takin' a turn in the galley. Keeps the engine lube out of the victuals." Kaylee stepped out of her work clothes and tossed them onto a nearby chair. She pulled on the shorts and quickly slid a shirt over her head.

"I'll be right back," Inara began a step toward the door, but Kaylee had another idea.

"Just change here. It's just us girls," she surveyed the hallway again "and I'll run and hang your gown in your shuttle - you can get started, meantime. Besides, then I get to hold up your dress in the mirror and twirl around a whole bunch." Kaylee fluttered her eyelashes at her friend, eliciting a jolly laugh.

Inara knew it was perhaps a bit silly, but she was excited about sharing the bread they were going to make, and so she unfastened the gown's clasps at the shoulder and waist. She passed it to Kaylee who grinned and chirped, "Hey, Cap'n!" A moment of undiluted panic at the thought of having to explain her underwear-clad presence in Malcolm Reynolds' galley, then Kaylee giggled at the look on her face. "You really are an easy mark, Inara." She skipped off toward the shuttle, trailing silk and more giggles behind her.

Inara couldn't help smiling as she slipped on the shorts - not as loose or as short as she'd estimated. She eased her arms into the shirt's sleeves, but when she tried to pull it over her head she found all the buttons fastened. Another prank of Kaylee's? Inara laughed, then wiggled her fingers through the soft cuffs of the too-long sleeves. She heard a low, masculine-sounding cough and started for a moment before laughing again. She didn't want to be _that_ easy a mark. "Nice try, Kaylee," Inara chided warmly as her fingers found the buttons that would free her. There - she pulled the shirt over her head, freed her hair from the collar, and untangled the remainder from around her bra.

"Dress up in the kitchen?" That was definitely, definitely not Kaylee's imitation of Mal. And the brown boots she saw were certainly not Kaylee's, one crossed over the other as the legs of not-Kaylee held up the rest of not-Kaylee, leaning against the frame of the galley doorway.

"You might have announced yourself." She was complete and tranquil disapproval. Her body felt cold, no, hot, where too much of it had been exposed to the galley air and his eyes.

"You might have kept your dress on. Of course," checking an imaginary timepiece, " it's been hours..." His face showed nothing but sympathy for her oh-all-these-clothes ordeal.

Even the annoying Captain would not diminish her mood. She smiled her most gracious apology at him. "Forgive me-"

"That's my shirt. What else of mine are you planning to appropriate?" Not quite laughing. "And do I wear something of yours? That might be a little awkward - I don't have your coloring." He fluttered some fingers toward his face and hair, clearly besotted with his own hilariousness. Hilarity. Whatever. Inara rolled her eyes, not entirely to herself.

He was, apparently, just getting started. "And whose britches are those? You wearin' anything of your own? Who's the rightful owner of that little pink brassiere I saw?"

She wasn't aware he had seen _that _much. "A gentleman would never-" she began, loftily.

"Yet another reason to be thankful I'm not a gentleman. What's that made from, anyhow? Looks flimsier than spiderweb."

"Not everyone looks so alluring wrapped in the surgical gauze you seem to favor, Captain."

"Alluring." He nodded as if to himself. "That's your...professional wardrobe, then."

"Hey, Cap'n!" Kaylee beamed at Mal as she breezed into the kitchen. She stopped at the sink and set about washing her hands. "Me and Inara are making rosemary bread. She's got a whole luncheon planned out for us. Ain't that sweet?"

"Maybe an early dinner - the dough will need time to rise."

"For us? What's the occasion?" His attention was blessedly diverted by the ingredients arrayed on the counter.

"The rosemary gave me the idea - my rosemary bread is generally well received, and cooking for one is simply not as rewarding. Besides, I knew I would have help." Inara shared a smile with Kaylee, who was measuring salt into the bowl of flour. She lifted both hands to sweep her hair back from her face and twist it into a coil. Inara felt Mal's eyes on her as she tucked the ends under, securing the loose knot.

"This couldn't have come cheap." Mal had found the roast chicken in the cooling compartment, was eyeing the shiny dark olives in their brine.

"I got a good price at one of the local markets." The shopkeeper had fairly fallen over herself to help Inara find everything she wanted. Having a registered Companion as a customer invariably advanced the stature of any business hoping to attract an upscale clientele.

It was in Mal's expression to tell Inara he suspected something very like the truth.

"Those are new earrings." Inara answered the Captain with a distracted nod. In truth, she had forgotten about the earrings since she'd started planning this lunch. "Your customer give you those? Good night's work." His voice was very even. "Does that happen often? You gettin' tipped with jewelry and such?"

"They were a gift from a dear friend."

"The _dear_ _friend _you spent last night with? Must be a man of means."

Inara needed a few moment's peace. She lifted her chin, turned her illuminated smile squarely on the Captain. "Why would you assume my" she let her lashes dip a slow curtsy over her shining eyes, " _dear friend_ is a man?" She kept her eyes on him while he managed what looked like a difficult swallow.

Kaylee's giggle broke the silence. "Guess you're not the easiest mark on the boat, Inara. Hey Cap'n - when're Zoe and Wash due back, anyhow?" Kaylee was stripping rosemary leaves from the woody stalk while Inara measured olive oil into the bowl.

"They're away?" She paused in reaching for the sugar, looked from Kaylee to Mal.

"Some business dirtside, I don't expect them back until dinner." Mal sounded uncharacteristically vague.

"They're doin' couple stuff," Kaylee explained confidingly. "So sweet."

"Well, we can save them some if they're very late - this keeps very well, if you think they'd like it." Inara added water, carefully sprinkled the tiny packet of yeast powder over the ingredients, and began to stir.

"Be a real nice surprise for them. Is this enough?" Kaylee showed her friend the small handful of aromatic leaves.

"Just a little bit more, I think. Then, if you don't mind chopping them up before we add them to the dough?" She was kneading now, watching the consistency of the dough, in past her wrists. "Want me to toss it in?" Kaylee had the chopped rosemary ready in a small tin bowl.  
"Yes, please."

Kaylee watched as the tiny green spikes were enveloped by the dough under Inara's moving hands. "Smells so good. Where'd you learn about all this?"

"At the Training House - we rotated through internships within the different departments that maintain the House. Baking was one of my favorites. Gardening too." She continued. "Do you know the story of rosemary? It symbolizes remembrance. On Earth-that-Was, it grew-"

"How long of a project is this going to be?" Apparently, Mal had run out of patience with their chatter. "Can't commandeer my mechanic all day for hearin' your stories and bein' your kitchen maid, she's got work to do, I'd be grateful to see it getting done."

"I'll get goin', Cap'n. Maybe you can stay and help instead." Kaylee bit back the smile shining from her face as she left.

"Yes, I'll give up the captaining since there's pat-a-cake to be played at." The trademark not-smile.

Inara shook her head at Mal. "I'm nearly finished, then this needs to rise for a while. She checked the clock mounted above the doorway and estimated. We'll eat at 5:00 if that suits you?"

"Shiny. Oh, and Inara - nice flowers." He turned and made his way along the hallway to the bridge. Inara couldn't tell if he meant the bouquet on the table or the pink lace's embroidered edge, and she was certain his ambiguity was deliberate.

It felt like a punishment to watch her every day - _behold the effortless superiority of life in the Core_ - but he did it anyway, just no more than he could help. So when he stepped into his own galley to find her like that, enveloped in one of his old shirts, trying to flap her pretty little hands free to find the buttons around the collar...and seen the dazzling, undressed skin of her, her belly, her sides, and under and around that preposterous scrap of lace she wore as a brassiere, the anger had raced up alongside desire in him. Anger almost, almost as strong as the desire to hold her in place, just like that, arms overhead and tangled in his shirt, to kiss everything he could see. For a start. But her voice, unguarded and playful from inside the shirt he had worn to threads - she'd probably never worn anything so raggedy in her elegant life - she'd been sure it was Kaylee playing with her, and just as eager as his _mei mei_ to play. He'd seen that in the millisecond's smile - not false, not lofty - she wore before she realized it wasn't Kaylee there to see. So the anger stayed in, as much as it could, along with the wanting.

It had been fun getting to embarrass her. Strange that showing a little tummy skin - and just a little bit more - should discomfit one in her profession. But she didn't get nearly as riled up as she might have. Rather, she riled up, but settled right down again quicker than he'd estimated. That was something to ponder.

He thought about the look of her in the kitchen when she was busy with the dough - a little of the flour had sprinkled down the front of her shirt - his shirt - and onto the outside of one bare knee. Stray tendrils had escaped from the knot at the crown of her hair, and danced against the back of her neck when she moved. Again and again his eyes found the flour - it would have been the work of a moment to brush her knee clean with his fingertips. And so contented she seemed, chattering away with Kaylee about a favorite subject in school. Was that a performance, as much of a trick as what she'd done to tuck her hair out of the way? Didn't feel like one.

The confounding part was how gorram _nice_ she acted, almost all the time. He expected haughty, superior, difficult, whiny, conceited. And saw her be polite and amiable with Wash and Zoe. Joining in conversations, asking questions, acting interested in their answers. Always seemed like she was listening to whoever was talking. Thick as thieves with little Kaylee. He figured she'd learned to act all fascinated with whatever _gose_ her clients rambled on about, but why bother here? No one on his boat paying her to be nice. No potential clients around to see.

He'd get complaints about the moulded protein that comprised most of their meals, but not a one from her. Kaylee'd make some comment, maybe trying to cover her own embarrassment at how little they had, then ask Inara some question: "Bet you never had such pitiful dinners on Sihnon. Bet your clients take you to the swankiest places around." Inara'd just smile and remark how traveling far and wide has other advantages to recommend it. So diplomatic.

He'd watched for the first time she used that charm on Kaylee, on Wash, to get them to do something she didn't feel like doing. Dishes. Sweeping up around the dinner table and galley. Didn't happen. She was fast and efficient with a broom, for all she made it look like dancing. Brought some cleaning gloves to the galley - let Kaylee use them on her nights - and made short work of clean up when she was with them and the job fell to her. Would even stick around to visit with his _mei mei; _when Kaylee washed the dishes, Inara would be drying them and stowing them away in the cabinets.

She'd brought them things before. Not so often that anyone would think she felt she _had_ to, that she was compensating for their lack. He'd seen her take pains not to compare whatever she had in the little basket to what was in the pantry, wrapped in dusty foil. "This is a particular weakness of mine." She'd say something like that, with a perfectly disarming smile. "Please join me so I won't embarrass myself and eat the entire thing?" Like they were doing her a favor, eating something they would never buy for themselves, not when there were so many engine parts so old they only refrained from disintegrating into complete rust out of love for Kaylee.

So why the whoring? Back on Shadow, he'd known two girls, sisters, who just grew up wrong. Not their fault, everyone knew, and a pity, but somehow no one had done what needed doing to put a stop to what was happening in the homes of those little girls. In elementary school, they had been close to normal, shabbier and maybe more fidgety than girls usually were.

By high school, they were hanging around the few stores in town most weekends. Faces all made up with colors like tropical fish from books. Had more new clothes than what their family's means could support, courtesy of the men they'd get friendly with, in the shadows by the back entrance to the stores. Didn't make them less shabby-looking, though. Maybe they carried on picking the clothes to attract that same kind of attention; maybe they let their 'boyfriends' dress them.

Debbie and Conn. Mal had known Conn all the way back in elementary school, First Communion Catechism. He remembered how lovingly she'd colored in the pictures of Blessed Mother from the coloring book Sister Mary Caroline had given her. He remembered how transfigured her grubby little face looked, singing about sweet Baby Jesus on the flight into Egypt, hidden safely away from the bad soldier men sent by Herod. Hidden with his Mother and earthly father, miraculously, behind Mary's Rose. The rosemary, blooming forever after in the blue of Mary's own robes. By high school, he hardly knew how she could lift her eyelids under all that crust of makeup, and it seemed like she could turn everything anyone said to her into some kind of smutty joke. Lots of the boys thought she _was_ a smutty joke - more than a few of the teachers, too. Mal remembered being embarrassed for her, and sad.

Didn't seem like that was the case with Inara. Wasn't that she had no other options - not a stupid or uneducated woman, needing to keep some man's interest to have a roof over her head. Was it just so hard, too hard, born with a face like hers, was it too hard to turn away the attention every man around - and plenty of women, _ai ya_ he could have done without that image - would be tripping over themselves to give? Was it just too much of an advantage to decline? And she chose her own, he knew that much, so she'd have no worries as long as she kept on choosing from that herd of somebodies.

Dinner started a bit early. Wash and Zoe returned mid-afternoon, and even by then the aroma of the baking bread had called people to the galley area to loiter and inhale under the guise of being on-hand to help with preparation. In truth, Zoe was disturbingly good at gutting the olives of their pits, even while joining Kaylee at playing audience for Wash. He had immediately fallen upon the snapdragons among the blooms on the table, squeezing them to make their jaws snap open. "Raaaar!" thundered a shell pink snapdragon, challenging its lavender nemesis. "Aaaaaarrrrggggggh!" responded lavender with a murderous, surprisingly basso voice. Thus began a botanical grudge match, played out all over the dining table, complete with supporting characters, tragic backstories and shocking plot twists, all courtesy of Wash.

Inara was in the galley, skinning and chopping the chicken while keeping an eye on the bread's color. Although she still wore Mal's old shirt as a smock, it was buttoned over the dress she'd put on as soon as the garlic was crushed and the dough was rising. Kaylee shook a bunch of wet salad greens over the sink, turned them in her hands, then shook again. "Shred 'em up?" she asked, waving the leaves at Inara.

"Please. And they'll go in the bowl for tossing." She indicated a gnarled aluminum mixing bowl with a nod to the right. "And thank you."

Zoe passed the olives through across the counter and accepted Inara's thanks with a nod. "Someone else does the cookin', I'll do the cuttin'."

Inara had seen Mal several times this afternoon, engaged on what she privately called his fly-bys. Passing through, quickly, from here to there, reasons unspecified, checking the galley with fast and careful eyes. He did not slow down much on later passes, when the bread started to make its presence known in the air. Even Kaylee calling out to him didn't entice him to perch on a chair and pass any time with them.  
He showed up promptly once Kaylee got on the comm and called him to dinner. A different shirt than this morning, and Inara was vaguely irritated with herself for noticing. Kaylee was not. "You look so _swai_, Cap'n! And you smell good, too!" So Inara hadn't imagined that his hair was just very slightly damp, and his skin a little bit scrubbed and warmed-up looking under the tan. And her irritation burned a little higher as she found herself wondering just what he smelled like.

"I got...something on myself earlier. Just thought I'd be presentable if there's to be a proper dinner, no need to fuss." He rolled his eyes at his mechanic, smiling just the same.

Kaylee frowned. "What'd you get on yourself? Because we've talked about you fixin' stuff." Her voice pitched a little higher, and she did not return his twinkly smile. She put a hand on his forearm, shook it a little to keep his attention. "Remember? About how you shouldn't, 'cause you can't, and you're not allowed, 'cause you...can't?" Her distress was genuine, and she would have left dinner to see to her girl, but Mal soothed her while turning her shoulders back to the table with gentle palms.

"Nothin' of consequence, I'm not after fillin' your boots, little Kaylee. Let's get you back to the table. You got your share of compliments to soak up, after all."

"She does." Inara beamed at her friend.

Wash passed to the table, a laden plate in each hand, and sent an air kiss in his wife's direction. "And just watch my honey's knife work, with the slicing of the bread. Ah, a thing of beauty is a joy forever." He stood watching her as she chuckled, then set the plates at their places before turning for more. "She digs me."

"A shower, sir? Is it July already?" Zoe's voice was sly but the eyes that looked him over, faster than anyone but him could recognize, were serious.

"You're droll." Mal sent Zoe a baleful look, then took the plate Wash offered. "We'll need to be off-world directly after chow, hope you two got enough romantical couple time dirt-side so that's not a problem. And Wash, I'll take it as a kindness if you to keep the details to yourself." He settled into his customary chair at the end of the table. Kaylee and Inara re-emerged from the galley, chatting, with cups and a pitcher of cold tea, and dinner started.

The table got very quiet for a few minutes, silence broken only by scraping forks, clinking plates, and a few muffled but heartfelt-sounding compliments.

"_Ta ma de_, Inara, this is good." Wash was hurriedly improvising a second helping with the chicken and greens stuffed between pieces of bread like a sandwich. Zoe saw Mal count the loaf's remaining slices, take a swift audit of everyone's plate, and increase the pace of his own consumption.

"Fine fare." Zoe nodded congenially at Inara.

"Mmmm," Kaylee agreed. "Not gonna fit under the engine with this big belly of mine." She reached for more bread and began to wipe the glistening olive oil from her plate with it. "Good idea to use the rosemary."  
"Well, I'm gratified you enjoy it so." Inara's smile encompassed everyone at the table. She noticed that the Captain had yet to speak, and inwardly chastised herself for hoping he'd say he liked what she had made. "It's one of my favorite things to make."

Mal set his fork on the table, sent a glance her way. "Kind of you to think of us. It's first-rate chow." He fixed a second plate, adopting Wash's sandwich strategy for efficiency's sake. "You get a lot of chances to cook?"

Inara shook her head with another smile. "Not nearly as many as I'd like. And fresh ingredients aren't always easy to come by." She sighed wistfully, glanced at the flowers in the pitcher. "I like to try to work with whatever's in season."

"Think I should bring out the other loaf?" Kaylee was watching the men tear ruthlessly through all the food on the table.

"I don't imagine it'd get rejected." Inara pushed back her chair, started to rise with Kaylee. "That's the last of the chicken, but there's more salad if anyone's-"

Mal spoke again. "You're good. Might could make a living at it, if the whoring ever loses its charm." He took a bite of the sandwich, reached for his tumbler of cold tea.

The table fell nearly silent - Kaylee appeared frozen entirely, and Wash set his sandwich down and tried to glance sideways to meet his wife's eyes. This was difficult, as Zoe continued tucking into her chicken and salad.

Kaylee looked at Inara, and saw how still the face, so animated and happy just one moment ago, had become. ""Nara, he didn't mean - " she started, miserable. She reached down for her friend's hand, but Inara had withdrawn both into her lap. For a brief span, Kaylee saw the Companion gaze down at her hands, watch them until they unclenched and rested lightly on the lustrous skirt. She squeezed Inara's shoulder, patted at her hair. "Cap'n, you hadn't oughta be so-"

"Yes he did." Inara answered Kaylee, but her eyes were held only on Mal, who, by now, was watching her with bewilderment and something like anger. For the first time in many years, she had no idea what her own expression communicated. This would not do. "He's called me whore before, just not with my dinner on his plate."

"I don't require you to speak for me, Kaylee." A warning, and not only for the mechanic. He paused a long moment, then seemed to decide something and said, with a shrug, "Why belabor the semantics - thrustin' for coin is whoring. Herby bread don't change that."

"I don't suppose a _thief _has cause to value anything freely offered."

"_Lady_," Mal managed to fashion the word into an insult, "you're making a host of unwarranted and dangerous assumptions about my business."

"Since you don't scruple yourself to refrain from judging mine, shall I tell you what I see?" She didn't wait for permission to speak. "Deadly weapons close to hand at all times. Double and triple-checking meeting places." Inara rose, picking up plates and tumblers, needing to move. "Middlemen. Aliases." Wash rescued his sandwich, but shrugged his shoulders when she confiscated his tea. "People you deal with, contract with, that you don't trust on your ship. Cargo that gets disguised or concealed in all haste." She lifted a stack of dishes from the table, pushed her chair in with an indignant hip. "Hurrying off-world for mysterious reasons at the end of a job." She crossed to the galley's counter, set down the plates, and returned to the table, snatching up napkins. "And Captain, was it an honest, job-related _accident_ that had you drenched in your own blood a few weeks back?" Somehow, she was directly in front of where he had risen and stood listening to her. "I feared you might _die_ that night, but no one mentioned getting you to a hospital. We had to run, instead." Her eyes lingered for a moment on his shirt, imagining him wrapped in gauze, imagining the wound beneath.

--  
He watched her eyes turn from shocked to hurt to furious, then, something he had not thought to see, to anguished when she stood almost on his booted toes and scolded him about how he'd thoughtlessly gotten himself near to gutted on their last job. Like she'd been holding it in. Her. Laughable. He'd seen how relaxed and comfy she'd been that morning. He'd been in the company of a satisfied woman, and time was it had been someone other than Zoe, and someone other than Wash doing the satisfying. He knew the way, how a night of appallingly thorough pleasure could spill its glow onto the whole next day. He marked it, how it made Inara even more ridiculously beautiful, but he wasn't supposed to think about who got to love her up six ways from Sunday. About what they'd paid. About who'd never, ever, get the chance.

Inara seemed to realize she was staring at the same moment Mal did. She spun away from him, muttering inventive and thoroughly unflattering things about the likely presence of warthog DNA in his family tree.

"So, you've honed your astute powers of observation. That from whore school too?" His jeering expression was lost on Inara. She was a veritable whirlwind of pissiness around the table, from which his crew was quickly scattering. Except Zoe, who by some miracle still had her plate. He had not missed Kaylee's expression, which communicated a world of disappointment and mortification, before she'd patted Inara's shoulder briefly on her way to the engine room. Wash had muttered something about getting them in the sky, and left without waiting for an answer.

Truth be told, he hadn't meant to offend. The first time he'd named her so, the first time they'd met, hell yes, and they both knew it. But at the table, seeing his crew so contented, and her looking happy and proud to please them with what she'd made, it was more unfathomable than ever that she'd sell herself around like she'd nothing else to offer.

First time, she'd been cool and poised, with her scholar's vocabulary and her raw honey voice. Smiling, a little, in the shuttle after his insult, she threw it right back at him without trying. This time, he could only guess that the total absence of expression on her face, the unblinking stare, meant that he'd surprised her. Ripped something away, something soft that she'd wanted to keep. Hurt her. Which he surely hadn't meant to do.

Well, he was a _hwoon dan_, everyone knew it, she might as well get used to it. If she was staying on the ship. Which still remained to be seen. Because if she thought he'd been offensive before...

"So, you're going to sell me out?" He felt Zoe listening - he knew this is what she had stayed for. "You know all about my grand life of crime. Givin' up information's got to be quicker and cleaner than most what you're used to. Course, spillin' the beans might not fetch as good a price as other things you do with your mouth, but-" He'd pushed himself, been deliberately crude toward her, didn't care to tell himself why, but she dismissed his question with a haughty glare.

"You know I'm not." Her cold, scornful voice told him she knew how ridiculous the accusation was. "You would never have allowed me to rent the shuttle if you thought I would." Inara looked a little flustered when Zoe rose and handed her a plate and fork as she left the table on her way to the bridge.

She waved a handful of forks at him. " And you can make your filthy comments about everything you imagine me doing, but that simply reveals your own warped attitude about sex. I enjoy my appointments with my clients. I enjoy giving and receiving pleasure." Her cheeks were flushed pink, there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. "I don't think it's shameful."

Mal shook his head. "Nothing shameful about sex." From what he remembered. He was grateful she didn't seem to have Wash's enthusiasm for details. Keep yelling at the beautiful woman - keep up the genius plan of yelling about sex, while she's yelling - close as she gets to yelling - about pleasure, enjoying. Giving. _Ai ya_, her, receiving. Try not to think about it. This was going to get uncomfortable, fast.

"You're making a big deal, getting your feathers ruffled 'cause I don't say 'Companion' and flutter my lashes like I want an autographed capture of you slidin' down a rainbow." Mal grabbed the washcloth from her hand and began scouring the table as though it were contaminated. "For the life of me, I see no difference between the two except membership in your union." Inara had stamped - not actually stamped, in those little ribbony slippers, but she crossed into the galley, so Mal raised his voice. "And if joinin' up with them and followin' their rules is the only thing that separates a Companion from a whore, well, that's pretty slim." He heard water running, got louder. "Especially since I'd bet money they're hand in glove with the Alliance, and-"

"Is this your charming way of ending our rental agreement?" So she _could_ hear him. He followed her into the galley and grabbed the broom. "Because, really, I would have preferred another manner of notification." She was getting louder too, over the clanking dishes and still-running water. "Maybe a push out the cargo bay door."

"No, I don't want to - this is not about the gorram rental agreement. What they got you doing for them - "

She paused in her search for the washing gloves to glare at him. "Do you think I'm simple? I studied for years to earn a place in the Guild. Companions are honored-"

He thumped the broom's bristles against the floor, scattering the dust it had harbored. "That's it exactly! Someone let you in, someone can put you out. Who decides which woman gets a place in the Guild, who gets _honored_ and who's worthy of protection?"  
"The Guild advocates for respectful and non-exploitative treatment of women everywhere. The Guild works in concert with local -"

"That from one of your textbooks?" Inara flushed but did not answer.

Mal watched her for a long moment. When he spoke, he surprised himself with how tired he sounded. "You're deluding yourself, and the more I know you, the less I like it. Don't ask me to pretend otherwise, it's not in me. You called me a thief, and most days I am, but I'm not a dissembler. Hope I don't lose your business over it. I want you to - I'd prefer you stay on, you think you can stomach me." This, and no closer, was as near an apology as he ever would offer. Not for his truth, but for the hurt in her eyes at the table. "You made the dinner." He held out a hand for the sponge. "I'll clean it up.


	3. Don't

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not this, that, or the other. Much love to Joss for these unforgettable characters. Just waiting for the big damn sequel.

"The ship's Serenity. We're parked at the southwest end of the docks. I'll expect you there within the hour, or assume you've reconsidered the job. Should give you time to collect your - what you'll be needing." Mal and Zoe saw the mercenary nod, then waited for the larger man to turn his back and make his way down the stone paved alley. "You radioed Wash?" The pair started off in the opposite direction.

Zoe inclined her head in the barest of nods. "Ship's secure. He knows not to let anyone in 'til we get there, and he's checking Cobb's background on the Cortex. Kaylee's been back for a good while, and Shuttle One isn't due in until later this evening. Wash waved her to request a hail in advance if plans change." Her voice dropped a little. "Sir, you're certain you want this man on Serenity?"

Mal's answer was immediate, his voice pitched lower than Zoe's. "Not anywhere near sure." Both Browncoats stepped into a smaller, side alley to the right, walking perfectly in step. "We'll keep an eye out 'til we can discern his intentions. If he's not trustworthy, we'll know soon enough." A few more turns in quick succession took them into a still narrower alley past a long row of dilapidated, pungent lean-to's that served as storage or makeshift animal pens in this quarter of the city. They could barely walk abreast. "If he comports himself acceptable, could be a powerful asset on some of the dicier jobs." Zoe and Mal stepped to opposite sides of the alley, again moving in perfect time. Each shrank back to disappear between the rickety buildings lining the alley. A few watchful moments passed while they made sure no one was trailing them. At the same moment, each stepped from his hiding place and continued their circuitous route to Serenity.

A few minutes later, Zoe hailed Wash to open Serenity's doors for their arrival. "And the new gun hand - his name's Jayne? Not something manly, like Percival or Gilderoy?"

"Might want to save up the mockin' for when we know him better, husband." Zoe smiled only with her voice.

"Will Mal have time to see his record? Some interesting reading."

"Such as?"

"My special favorite is when our hero was bound by law for being drunk, armed, and naked in public. Did you know there was a code for that particular variety of adventure?"

"I expect there's codes for odder - none spring to mind just now, though."

"Interesting." There was a pause while Wash seemed to be reading. "It says here that the madam of the establishment paid his bail."

They had a brief time to let Kaylee know of Jayne's expected arrival and to review the more salient information Wash had found for them. Mal settled himself at the bay's control panel where he could look out to see Jayne's approach. After a glance exchanged with her captain, Zoe went toward the ship's interior on business of her own.

His face was puffier, on one side, than Mal remembered, and his clothes considerably dustier and torn in a few places. The worn green kit bag he carried clanked very slightly and poked out at sharp angles everywhere, indicating contents mostly other than clothing. "This is it, in the way of - I'm ready."

Mal nodded. "This is Serenity. I'll show you around, introduce you to the crew. And I'll be needing to inspect the gear. There's nothing comes on my ship I don't see." Jayne offered no objection, so Mal continued. "Zoe you've met - the pilot's Wash." He made a gesture indicating the cargo bay. "Storage area when we're transporting." The men headed up the stairs and through the ship, past the infirmary and the currently empty passenger dorms. As they started to enter the hall to the crew's bunks, Mal stopped walking and faced Jayne directly. "Mechanic's Kaywinnit Lee Frye. A girl. Never hope to find better on any of the turning worlds. Sweet-natured, as well as useful. This is her first home apart from her daddy's. I'll not tolerate anything that gives her a moment's unease. Strict no fraternization policy amongst crew." Mal's face was completely neutral, his voice was as calm as if they had been discussing the capacity of Serenity's water heater, but he made sure his eyes met Jayne's and saw understanding before he moved a step further.

"Don't bother girls. Never needed to. Look for them as like me - or leastways, the coin in my pocket." This fit with what information Wash was able to discover on the Cortex about one Cobb, Jayne. Bound by law for plenty of brawls, accused of several varieties of mischief through the years of his career, but none having to do with violence against women.

"That's fine to hear. Just make sure your definition of "bother" ain't different in its particulars from hers." After watching Jayne's nod, Mal continued. "Here'll be your bunk. Private, as I said." The captain showed Jayne the hatch's locking systems, then pushed open the door with a booted foot and indicated the ladder. "Now's when I see what's in that kit bag. Anything you want to foremention?"

Jayne handed over the bag with a shrug. "Tools of the trade. Got some knives, few grenades, firearms - go easy with the big one, she's" his voice softened "special."

Mal let this last revelation pass without inquiry. "Traipsin' about my ship with grenades clankin' around in there?"

"They're secure." A few moments passed. "Some pictures in there too."

Mal had already gotten an eyeful of Jayne's _pictures_. Well-worn images of naked or nearly naked women - proportions expanded beyond Nature's necessity or wildest optimism. He set the collection aside, mentally determined to find soap and a sink as soon as possible - and examined Jayne's arsenal while the merc looked on, offering comments on the particulars of different weapons.

"You'll need to stow these in your bunk and make sure no one has access to them. Bunk's small, but it's clean and private. I'll show you." Mal descended the ladder with Jayne close behind. A brief look around, and the merc tucked his bag under the bed while giving the mattress a sniff.

"I could make a storage area here." He indicated the wall adjacent to the bed. Mal nodded.  
"Another point of information." He waited for Jayne's attention before continuing. "One of Serenity's shuttles is occupied. Long term tenant." He paused. "Registered Companion." Mal observed the predictable change in Jayne's expression impassively, declining to be drawn in to the other man's lascivious grin.

"It's to Serenity's advantage to keep her as a tenant. There's many ports more accepting of us with her along. Do whatever needs doing to make sure she knows you're no kind of threat nor annoyance." He went on. "We lose her, it comes out of everyone's take - rent money she pays in goes a good bit to keepin' Serenity fueled and maintained."

Apparently, Jayne had been big enough for long enough to forget how to censor his questions. "Registered Companion on your boat and she pays your rent in _coin_? Hell, whyn't you take it in trade?"

"Coin benefits everyone, keeps the ship in repair." Mal leaned against the ladder, arms folded.

Jayne regarded his new boss. "You sly?"

Head shake. "Not at all."

"You with that" Jayne's eyebrows spoke volumes, "first mate of yours?"

"She's married to our pilot." Mal glanced up the ladder.

"Thought you said no - "

"They were a package deal." The short version of the story.

"So three women on your ship and you ain't sexin' any of 'em." Jayne settled on the bed, seemingly needing all his strength to ponder this truth.

Mal abstained from any reply.

"And you ain't sly."

Small head shake.

Jayne's face became oddly grave. "You one of them..._unique_ fellers? From the war?" Mal grappled with this question in perfect uncomprehension until he caught the meaningful glance and the snipping motion the other man sketched in the region of his own crotch.

"Got everything I was born with." He felt compelled to add, "no missing parts."

Jayne thought about this for a long moment and Mal hoped the groincentric interrogation was concluded, but as he waited he saw the merc's face changed to something like a warning. "Don't truck with them that" disgust on his face now "take to young'uns, boy or girl. Them that do, I kill for free."  
"Glad to hear it."

That settled, Jayne rose and took a turn around the small room, steering the conversation back to Mal's tenant. "Somethin' off-puttin' about her? I thought Companions were supposed to be the most fancified piece o trim in the 'verse."

"Talk like that'd be the annoyance I referred to earlier. You're to be mannerly with our tenant, and anyone as may come along in the future. Gun hand who scares away business is in no way an asset to this crew. Are we in accord?"

"Mannerly." Jayne nodded, but looked at Mal appraisingly. "So she don't like you, that's what."

"Don't expect she does, or needs to, more than what'll keep her on my boat." Mal's gaze was fixed on a spot just beyond Jayne's right temple.

"She might like me better."

Mal waited for Jayne to elaborate.

The big man gave a salacious smile. "Might need someone to practice them Companion tricks on, between jobs."

"Doubtful."

"Just sayin', even a gun needs its works polished regular, so it don't go all creaky."

"_I'm_ just sayin', you make sure she's got no cause to worry over your presence on my boat. Are we clear, or is this conversation taking a turn that leads to us partin' ways?"

"Mannerly as Easter Sunday."

--

Mal was on the walkway above the cargo bay when Shuttle Two rejoined Serenity. He'd been in and out of the area throughout the evening. Logic told him it was only prudent to be on hand in order to apprise Inara of their - his - new crew member, but when he'd found himself, again and again, loitering around in the cargo bay waiting to hear from her, he found himself growing irritable. She wasn't late, he reminded himself - that had never yet happened, she was as fastidious about punctuality as every other gorram thing. But the idea of her lingering over goodbyes with some rich Alliance customer didn't sit well with him.

When she finally descended the stairs from her shuttle entrance, she greeted him with a cordial smile. The warmth in her eyes seemed so genuine. Maybe she'd enjoyed the job. "Good evening, Captain. I hope all's well?"

"Need a word."  
"Certainly." She paused on the stairway.

"Not here." He inclined his head toward her shuttle doorway.

He did not miss the wary look in her eyes. "Of course." She turned about smoothly and retraced her steps to her shuttle's hatch, then watched him as he followed. Inara opened the door but waited for Mal to cross the threshold first.

Mal took a few steps inside, then turned to face Inara. His arms were folded across his chest. "Took on a new crew member this afternoon. Gun hand. Name's Jayne Cobb."

Inara nodded. "I don't know the name - is she - ?"

Mal interrupted. "It's - he's a man." He chuckled faintly, raised one hand as if to forestall the obvious question. "Can't shed any light on the name."

"It's your prerogative to augment your crew as you see fit." She was, clearly, waiting for more explanation.

"Man's not known to me. Read what there is to know on the Cortex, but there's not an abundance of particulars. Earlier today, he was merc for a crew aiming to rob and kill us. Persuaded him to ally with us instead. Far as what his allegiance is worth, it's anyone's guess." He looked past Inara into the shuttle, seemed to consider his words for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was lower. "I've let him know that you're renting the shuttle for your...business."

"And you've outlined the specifics of my business, I presume?" The asperity was there, for anyone who knew how warm her voice _could _be.

"Told the man you're a Registered Companion."

Inara blinked at this. "Why?"

Mal moved into the shuttle, perched himself on the edge of the couch. "You've been on my boat for more than 2 months now. I don't find any fault with how you conduct yourself as a tenant. You're respectful of my crew. I wouldn't be happy to see you go." He added quickly, "Rental income helps with Serenity's operating expenses, means extra coin for replacement parts and such. Keeps Kaylee outa my hair."

"I'm glad you find our relationship beneficial." Inara did not sit, but moved closer to stand by where he was.  
He looked down at the tiny carving that had somehow found its way into his hands. It was some kind of open-limbed tree, rendered in ivory. He ran his finger over the four-petaled flowers and frowned. "This new hand, seems quite adept at weapons, tracking especially. Wasn't behind the door when they gave out bulk, either." His tone was thoughtful, speculative. "We'll be able to take on more jobs with him aboard."

Inara moved beside him and held out her hand for the carving. "And he's expressed interest in me." He heard a flatness that hadn't been there before.  
Mal leaned back, looked up at her. "Ain't that your business - arousing _interest_? You're not easy to overlook."

"It's not my intent to-" Inara turned away, placed the carving in a drawer, and closed it with a snap.

Mal wasn't finished. "Who wouldn't be interested - tales spun throughout the 'verse on how Companions are something..."

"Some_thing_?" She turned toward him again, one hand still on the dresser's handle. Her voice was scathing.

His gesture moved over her. "What do you think you put a man in mind of, the look of you, the way you dress, that _gorram_ scent you wear. Pitch dark, man could still find you from it." He glared, looked away. "I'm only dealing with the facts before me."

There was color high on her cheeks, and a glitter in her eyes. "I enjoy beautiful things. And I have this eccentric habit wherein I bathe regularly. Shall I apologize for either?"

"Might be you've got more to cleanse yourself of than the rest of us." Mal nearly hissed at her. "It's all calculation. Every last bit of yourself you show to the world is for-"

"Let me make sure I have the truth of this. My wardrobe does not suit you. My appearance and my manner offend you. You find fault in my work and everything else about me, even the way I _smell_. How do you want me, _Captain_?" She faced him, kept her face composed, but Inara's words were dagger sharp as she flung the question at him.

"I don't want you at all!" It would have been hard to tell which of the two was more shocked at this, and Mal was silent and still for a few moments before going on, in a voice made calmer only by unmasked effort. "Don't confound this," he ground out. "Listen, the merc - he had this idea that maybe you and I" Mal held out both hands, palms toward Inara, "but I told him that we'd never, so he - "

"Oh, no, the high-minded Malcolm Reynolds would _never _sully his bed with a whore." She stalked across the room away from him, snatched up a shawl from a chair near her bed and wrapped it close around her shoulders.

Mal responded with something very like a growl from between clenched teeth and then gathered himself to continue. "He's coming on this crew, he needs to know the lay of the land and he only -"

"Thinks I'm fair game? We had an agreement, _Captain_." Her back was still to him, and he could not identify what he heard in her voice.

"And I've held to it."

"Yours is not the only shuttle I considered renting." The shake of her head communicated a world of bitterness. "Do you know why I chose Serenity?"

"I'm thinking right now I don't know much about the damn conversation I'm in!" Mal was on his feet again, quite close to shouting at the woman opposite him. She turned and eyed him warily for several moments, then let her gaze drop to follow her own fingers as she pulled at the red shining fringe of the shawl.

"As you said," the words came precisely and stiff, "I've respected our business arrangement. Your crew, I'd like to think that we've become - with Kaylee, I mean, and Zoe and Wash. I've found...more than I expected to, here, and I wouldn't be happy to go, either." Dust motes falling through the light made more noise than there was between them in the pause that followed. "But don't ask this of me." Inara's voice was small and sorrowful, and Mal saw her close her downcast eyes.

Understanding broke over him. "You figure I'm planning to whore you out?" There was precisely no humor in the stacatto, incredulous laugh she now heard from Mal. He stepped forward and leaned down toward her, trying to meet her gaze. "You reckon I look at you every day and see some kind of gorram _advantage_?"

Inara was furious. "Enlighten me, Mal. You come to me explaining about this gun hand you need, all your doubts about him, and then bring up his interest in me -" She broke off, her expression manifesting disgust.

"And you believe I'd offer you up for my own gain." His disbelieving tone changed to something Inara had never heard from him. He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "No, think I'll leave that to them as raised you."

She advanced on him a step, pure in her outrage. She was too close, but seemed beyond caring. "What gives you the right to insult my family, my teachers, my choice?"

"You've got the wrong idea entirely." When her expression did not change, Mal reached into the front pocket of his trousers. He did not speak again but offered to Inara something tiny and glinting - a communication transmitter. Her eyes skimmed it wordlessly, then met his.

"It's just like the one Kaylee's wearing. Man's not given me any reason yet to trust or not trust, one way or the other." Inara made a slight move toward him, but her hand seemed to falter on its way, smoothed fingers instead across her brow. She whispered something to herself, but her lips scarcely moved and Mal did not catch it. He drew the comm back to himself, and examined it as he spoke, turning it in his palm with the fingers of the same hand.

"I'd as soon find a way to keep this man with us. Could prove a powerful advantage, kind of work we do. But Serenity's our home." Her eyes widened at these last words and he hastened to clarify, " I won't have you uneasy in your own home. You got a right to feel safe. So until we know Cobb, I need you -" he paused, cleared his throat. "You're to wear this on your person while you're on Serenity." Again he held out the transmitter. "If he lays hand to you, I won't be more than a ship's length away. You call and I will put it right." The grim look that crossed his face told her more than what he had said.

Inara let him press the comm into her palm. "Mal." Had she ever used his given name before? "I don't know what to say." She waited until he looked at her again. "But I must apologize for my assumption. You've never given me any reason to-"  
He shrugged an interruption. "Just don't fall in love." At this they both laughed a little, uneasily. "All the arguing I done that he ain't your type, it'd be a bitter pill." He considered her. "Big, loud, and violent ain't your type by chance, is it?"

This earned him a smile. "I assure you it is not."

"That's a relief." Another pause, and she thought he might leave.

He started to, then stopped with his hand on the threshold. Facing away from her. "Why did you choose Serenity?"

A wry smile at his back. "You were the only one who didn't suggest an arrangement other than a financial lease." Each time, in every empty shuttle, she'd told the bald truth. 'You want me.' It would not have been inaccurate to call the exchange a test.

"In trade?"

She nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see her. "Yes."

He scoffed. "Can't have you bothering me all the time, woman." Mal strode through the threshold and down the stairs and did not look behind him as he left.


	4. Wedding Story

"Hawthorne has offered to rendezvous with us in orbit near Boros, if you are amenable. The ceremony itself will be on Greenleaf. I expect to be gone for a week." Inara set her breakfast plate on the table and settled into her chair. She glanced at Mal. "We can arrange a similar meeting then, or my hosts can secure private transport back to Serenity."

Mal chanced a sip of the steaming coffee in his mug, frowned, and returned it to its place by his bowl. "You're not taking Shuttle One?"

"There'd be no place for it. Hawthorne will need all its own shuttles for wedding business as well as the events on board. It's a very busy week for the staff."

Mal nodded, tapped a finger on the edge of the galley table. "A week? I'll need to see what we can -"

Jayne interrupted, mouth full of breakfast protein notwithstanding. "That's a lotta sexin'."

"As I've said, I'm attending a wedding. As a guest." The look Inara gave Jayne was tolerant, but detached.

"Sexin's good luck at a wedding."

Mal stirred the coffee and ignored Jayne. "Folk must really want you there, sending a ship to fetch you."

Inara smiled over the rim of her teacup. "Not only me. Hawthorne is making a quick circuit to gather a number of guests who have far to travel. But I have known the family for a long time." She took a bite of toast, spread, Mal saw, with the plum sauce she favored.

"Bride's side?" Another sip - the coffee was cool enough to drink, hot enough to mitigate the taste.

"Both, actually. The bride was a friend from the Training House, and I've known the groom for years."

"So she's a Companion? Marryin?" Mal shook his head. "He must be an uncommonly tolerant man."

Another interruption from Jayne. "You known him, known him? As in sexin'?"

Inara clarified, "She's a former Companion. Chrysanthe retired when she and Radamus affianced."

Jayne addressed Mal through another mouthful of breakfast. "I bet she's sexed him." The new gun hand's fascination with Inara's professional life was a constant.

Mal answered Jayne, hoping to put the subject to rest. "Doubt the bride would want her there, were that the case." He took another drink of the bitter coffee, shifted the hot mug to his left hand.

The remark earned Mal an enigmatic look from Inara. "It's a grave breach of etiquette for a groom's family not to invite a Companion he has contracted with on a regular basis. And it's a serious snub if the Companion does not attend."

Jayne's grin was triumphant. "I knew it." Another thought occured to him, and he drummed his spoon through the air at Inara. "Hey - you ever sex up the bride?" He slid a salacious glance at Mal.

Inara rolled her eyes and declined to answer. Jayne was not dissuaded. "What's she look like? 'Cause that'd be a hell of a wedding present. Speakin' for the groom."

Inara took what Mal understood to be a deep, calming breath and addressed him again. "A Companion attends the ceremony to pay tribute to the man her client has become, and to honor the new family being created."

Jayne continued his reverie, breakfast bowl all but forgotten. "Might could give the bride some pointers. Course, if she's a Companion too, she don't need 'em. Heh, heh, heh." His smile grew wider and even less wholesome.

Mal tilted his mug back and forth, watching the dregs of the coffee chase a circle around the cup's bottom rim. "So Companions retire when they marry?"

"Some do. There are formalities to be observed, but is her choice. Companions aren't indentured to the Guild, if that's what you imagined." Her voice gave only the tiniest indication that she was beginning to lose patience. With him. Not with the protein-spitting man-troll proposing a menage a trois with the newlyweds. Him.

"Oh, I don't imagine much." A lie. Too many times, at night or in the middle of the gorram day, his own stupid brain seemed to take delight in ambushing him with everything it imagined. Didn't help that she'd gone out of her way to be pleasant toward him since the misunderstanding when the merc came aboard. He could see that she'd relaxed a little bit, let down, just a little bit, the guard she wore around her like a shimmering cloak. It might be that the small growing light she held in her hands was trust - a warming trust in him, and he did not want it of her. It was getting to be a tribulation. A week without her would be a relief.

"Hawthorne will request permission for several of its staff to board, in order to see to my wardrobe. Will that be a problem?"

"Not as such. But if you need help with your dresses, there's us on board as can -"

Jayne mustered his most gallant expression. "I'll tote your unders for ya, darlin'." He grinned and treated himself to an extra-large shoveling of his breakfast.

Mal recognized the smile, beatific like some stained-glass angel. He almost felt sorry for Jayne as the big man's eyes met Inara's.

The smile grew warmer still, and her voice was sweet innocence itself. "But that means you'd be carrying nothing at all."

The gasp, and the subsequent choking sounds, were operatic in their scope. Jayne clutched at the table, then the arms of his chair as he staggered to his feet and away to the galley for a drink that might bring some relief.

Inara turned to Mal. "I don't want to put you to any trouble, Captain, and the staff are very efficient. Shall I confirm the meeting for tomorrow morning?"

He couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Plan to kill me with my own breakfast if I object?"

Her eyes, Mal saw, got so enchantingly twinkly when she was pleased with herself. She tilted her head to indicate Jayne, still coughing and sputtering in the galley. "I doubt there'll be any permanent damage."

He could actually feel himself getting stupider and stupider the more he sat there letting her smile at him. Time to go. "Tomorrow morning at 10:00 sounds fine. But I will want to see who's boarding." He rose and turned to go, nodding at the soft "thank you" that followed his retreat.

--

He barely saw her the rest of the day. He assumed she was answering calls on the cortex, deciding which outfits passed muster for the trip. Later, he found himself following a lilt of music to the cargo bay. She and Kaylee were down there, giggling their way through a dance they'd talked about at dinner. He saw Kaylee's gleaming honey hair, brushed glossy and held up with some incongruously sparkly girly thing. Inara had wrapped a royal blue sash around her own waist, signifying a cumberbund, he supposed. She sketched an intricate, gentlemanly bow to Kaylee, who plucked at the edges of her coveralls to return a curtsy. Hands clasping and unclasping, they twirled around each other, a touch to an elbow, a shoulder held in a soft caress. An arm, light with affection around a slender waist. He could see that Inara was talking, coaching Kaylee, whispering encouragement as she smiled. He watched the dance's courtship story. Pause, reach, come close and closer, glide away. Not too far, my darling, come back to me. Twirl and circle, again and again. The music ended with more giggling, Inara fluttering her eyelashes as she smiled a kiss onto Kaylee's outstretched hand. Mal turned away before they could see him, or start again.

The fantasies came again that night, as they had nearly every night since his first sight of her. Of course. Was there a man who'd met her who didn't dream of her? The memory still, of her hand on his arm, weeks ago in the infirmary. Maybe the only time she'd ever touched him. Gooseflesh, and he was grateful she had not realized they weren't from the cold. He wished, not for the first time, that he'd sent her away that night. Desire, so stupidly predictable, impervious to his own scorn. A personal embarrassment that the dreams had become something new the night she'd made them dinner and he could not hold his tongue. He'd have her, against all probability, perched on his lap and he'd kiss her, just kiss her, hands cradling her shining, beautiful face, until that hurt look was gone and only desire remained. Or the day Jayne boarded Serenity and she had thought what she'd thought. Never, his dream self had whispered against her mouth while she pulled him closer and his hands claimed her for his alone. Some ineducable and defiant part of him, some part that knew nothing of profit and loss and would not shut up, maintained that the right kiss could make her forget every other man in the 'verse.

Mal rolled out of his bunk and pulled his boots back on with a grimace. Maybe next job he could get himself hit on the head, knocked unconscious, and wake up with no memory of her. That'd be good. 'Til he woke up in the infirmary to see her next to him with her book and blanket and that fussy little basket, and him too dizzy to run away. This is the kind of trouble that's not going away easy. Worse, you keep stepping up and volunteering for more of it every time she smiles at you. This can not possibly end well. Why the hell did you ever let her on your boat?

--

The pilot of Hawthorne hailed them earlier than Mal expected the next morning. He hadn't finished breakfast - the same uninspired protein he'd eaten the previous day - when Wash called on the comm. After a short conversation with Hawthorne's pilot, Mal made his way to Inara's shuttle and found her folding something red and soft-looking into a gleaming wooden satchel. Kaylee lolled on the neatly made bed, poring over a delicate string of jade. "Your date is on his way."

"I don't have a date." At his look of surprise, Inara continued. "I am well acquainted with many of the other guests, I won't lack for company." She locked the satchel and set it by 3 similar cases near the door.

"Guess not, what with all the...Companions about." Mal let his eyes track the length of a shimmering blue ball gown that was wrapped in some kind of cover. He recognized the sash, set the memory of her dancing firmly away from his mind. "Plus, being on one man's arm the whole week might cut into your business opportunities, I reckon." He watched carefully, but her placid expression did not change. "I have to admit, it's got me wondering. Did your friend pay to court his lady love?"

Inara paused before answering, but her eyes were steady on his face. "If you mean, did they initially meet through a contract, then the answer is yes." She nodded as if acknowledging something, but Mal didn't know what, or to whom. "There are times when the regard between a Companion and her client deepens into something more."

"Guess your way takes the worry about whether a fella should go for the kiss at the end of the date." Mal watched her run her hands over the skirt of an ivory gown, as if smoothing away dust from its pristine folds. "Is it your way? You ever date a client? How does that work? Because you'd only get to know the ones that have enough coin to court you on the regular."

Inara crossed to the couch and settled herself. "A Companion has the autonomy to arrange business and social engagements as it suits her." She adjusted, to the left or right a few centimeters, two of the small ornaments on the table.

"Never know when you're gonna meet the one, it could be anyone, anywhere." Kaylee sighed at the mirror as she admired the jade resting against her collarbone.

"But if her beau's not paying for her time, someone else will be. Got to generate revenue somehow." Mal noticed that Inara had not answered his questions.

Kaylee spoke into the silence, her voice confident. "People in love find a way to work all that out. Can't let every little-"

His eyes wandered back to the ivory gown. "Ever see yourself getting married? Like your friend?"

"Most Companions do marry." Another non-answer. She was not smiling at him.

"Probably to a client - someone who could bankroll whatever it would cost to sweep you off your feet? Book up your whole schedule for weeks just so he wouldn't have to think about another man's hands on you." Mal leaned against the doorway and sighed. "So romantic." He watched with grim satisfaction as she rolled her eyes, murmuring to herself as she turned away to fetch something from a cabinet. Clearly annoyed. Annoyed is good, he told himself. I'm powerfully annoying, keep your distance.

Inara made her voice audible. "All these questions - Jayne's been rubbing off on you, Captain."

"That's inescapable, I reckon. Probably won't be able to tell us apart by the time you get back." Mal turned to go. "I'll let you know when Hawthorne hails us for docking. And Kaylee? Get back to work. Fancy don't keep this boat in the air." He heard his mechanic exchanging goodbyes with her friend as she followed behind him.

--

Hawthorne made contact with Serenity precisely at 10:00. Mal sent a comm message to Inara and the two met in the cargo bay to greet the Hawthorne's captain and crew. He was surprised to see her dressed warmly, a long, fur-trimmed golden cloak covering her gown. At his quizzical expression, she answered, "I don't know, myself. Chrysanthe would not elaborate on the surprise she has planned. She advised me to dress for winter at the rendezvous." She made the same explanation a few minutes later when Kaylee reappeared for another goodbye.

They had only a few minutes to wait. The docking mechanisms were engaged, the pilots exchanged information, and Mal stepped forward to open Serenity's cargo doors for Inara's friends. He barely registered the effusive greeting the young woman, whom he supposed must be Chrysanthe, gave Inara. A soft inhalation of breath at his side told him Kaylee was as astounded as he was as they found themselves gazing over a landscape of glittering snow and ice.

Hawthorne's bay had been transformed into the setting for some kind of winter fairy tale. Graceful, elegantly shaped cedars were arrayed around the perimeter of the scene, each branch adorned with tiny silvery lights and a perfect layer of glittering frost. At the center was what looked like a tiny gem of a lake, its icy surface reflecting not only the twinkling lights, but somehow drifting clouds and a crescent moon from above. A gravel path wound in and around the trees and toward gently rolling hills in a distance that couldn't possibly exist. Silver luminaria, flanked by blooming stands of winter hellebore, shone down on each footfall along the path. Here and there the landscape was dotted with inviting benches, padded with silvery cushions and protected by velvet canopies from the softly falling, impossibly pristine snow.

"Cap'n," Kaylee breathed, wonder in her voice, "have you ever seen anything so-"

"Captain Reynolds, allow me to introduce my dear friends Chrysanthe Tsioros and Radamus Eco." Inara had moved close, still half in the embrace of her fellow Companion.

With an effort, Mal moved his gaze from the scene in front of him and directed it at the couple now flanking Inara. The young woman's hair was so pale as to be almost a match with the twinkling lights of the trees, though golden rather than silver. She was tiny, inches shorter even than Inara or Kaylee, and Mal saw that her eyes were an unexpectedly deep green in a face of arresting perfection. She was robed, as Inara was, but in ivory brocade trimmed with downy white fur from the top of her hood to the instep of her immaculate boots. Inconceivable as it was, if there was a woman to fit such an otherworldly landscape, it was she. Her fiance', by contrast, looked for all the world like a very prosperous farmer with too hearty an appetite for the bounty of his own fields. He too was dressed in elegant clothing, but his chubby face was flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cold, and his wispy black hair waved maniacally around his face in the slight breeze from Serenity's warmer bay.

"Nice set up you got, there." Mal gestured at the icescape, suddenly very aware of Serenity's worn floors and dented paneling. The expense it must have taken to achieve what he saw before him - he was sure it would dwarf Serenity's operating expenses for a year. All this, for what was merely an entertaining prelude to the wedding itself. This is what it takes to impress a Companion, he thought. This is what she's accustomed to. Beside him, Kaylee had yet to move or speak.

"Oh, do you like it?" The woman's smile was dazzling as she turned from Mal to beam at her intended husband. "It was all Radamus' idea." She looked back at Mal. Impossibly, her smile grew wider and there was music and much pride in her voice as she explained. "We met in winter, you see, and he wanted to have all our friends begin this journey just as we began our journey into each other's hearts." Chrysanthe's hand moved from Inara's arm to around her waist, and she hugged her friend close, rising on elegant booted toes to press a tender kiss upon her cheek. "I'm so blessed."

Mal figured that being that excessively beautiful made it easier to get away with saying really dumb stuff - and he did not miss the warning look Inara shot at him over her friend's shoulder.

"How'd ya do it?" Kaylee's voice traveled back to them. Her steps had taken her, apparently unaware, into Hawthorne's bay, and she stood at the edge of an ancient-looking stone half-moon bridge over a tiny frozen stream.

"You must be Kaylee." Radamus trundled toward the mechanic with an unselfconscious smile. "Inara says you taught yourself engineering, can fix anything in the 'verse."

Kaylee's cheeks flushed primrose, but she beamed as she shook her head. "Well, I don't know about that-"

"We have a few minutes while the porters retrieve Inara's wardrobe. Want to see?" Radamus nodded eagerly at his own question, sending his hair into chaotic eddies around his face. "The environmental systems really take a fraction of the energy I had originally budgeted for. I was entirely at a loss until I tried... " They drifted out of earshot. Radamus had moved with surprising quickness; Kaylee was wrapped in his cashmere overcoat, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm as he led her over the bridge and along the path. Mal watched them stop every few steps, presumably to discuss the finer points of turning a perfectly good ship into a flying frosted cupcake.

In the meantime, four of Hawthorne's porters had assembled at a discreet distance behind Chrysanthe, and were evidently waiting for permission to board and begin their work. Mal caught Inara's eye - she had been watching him during her welcome from Chrysanthe - and indicated the porters with a tilt of his head. She nodded, and addressed her friend. "Sweetie, shall I show your crew to my shuttle? With your permission, Captain," she added, somewhat hastily.

"Oh, yes. Can I see, too?" Chrysanthe addressed Inara, but Mal thought he'd caught a swift, appraising glance from the blonde. Only a moment, but not a trace of girlish sentimentality at all - it was surprisingly unsettling, as much so as her ethereal beauty, and it made him wonder what she'd been looking for.

Mal nodded. "We can all go - this way." He led the party toward the stairs, trying not to dwell on how decrepit and shabby Serenity must look to these strangers' eyes. Mal sent a warning glare to Jayne, who was lounging on the catwalk with a wolfish smile on his face. "Watch out for the railings - they get hot under the lights," he warned as the porters attempted to walk two abreast behind him. He could hear the girls murmuring to each other as they came up the steps; wedding plans, he supposed, but their voices were so quiet he couldn't discern much. He did hear an abundance of sighs and giggles from Chrysanthe, and wondered - if her behavior was some kind of contrivance, it was a damn good one.

In short time they had cleared the shuttle of Inara's formidable array of luggage. Despite the porters' best efforts, they found themselves one arm short and Mal had volunteered to carry a small, soft-sided bag, quilted in amethyst velvet. The flush he caught as Inara turned her face away made him wonder, before he stopped himself, just exactly what he carried, but he passed it to her without comment at the foot of the stone bridge.

"Thank you. I'll finalize my return itinerary by week's end, if that is acceptable to you." Her eyes were intent upon his face, and Mal thought Inara might have said more. Instead she turned at hearing Kaylee's voice as her friend advanced up the path, still accompanied by an even more flushed and dewy Radamus.

Kaylee unwound the oversized coat from around her shoulders and, brushing snowflakes from it with her hands, passed it back to Radamus with a smile. "Thanks for the tour. Got a real shiny boat for the party. And I'm glad I saw it, never would have thought to modify a catalyzer like you did."

"I'm sure you would have. You are the only one I've spoken to who knew why I had that clumping problem with the snowflakes at first." Radamus squeezed both her hands between his own large, pink palms. "And I can't wait to try your idea about streamlining the -"

Mal interrupted, glancing at Radamus and Chrysanthe. "Very fine meeting you both. Dont want to keep you, I'm sure you've got other guests to fetch. Besides, I don't want to linger and melt your party."

Kaylee pursed her lips for a moment, then smiled fondly as she wrapped Inara in another goodbye hug. "Gonna miss you - don't have so good a time that you won't come back to us," Mal heard her murmur into Inara's ear.

Inara smiled and touched her friend's cheek with the fingers of one elegant hand. "No chance of that," she promised with a tiny shake of her head. "Take care of everyone for me." She cast unfathomable eyes across Serenity's bay for a moment before she turned again into the arms of her friends and crossed the stone bridge into Hawthorne's softly falling snow.

--

Inara considered the opportunity before her as she strolled through Hawthorne's winter forest and then along the gleaming hallway toward her chambers. She had a week away, in the company of dear friends and other people who held both her and her position as Companion in the highest esteem. She left Serenity intending to use her time well, and to put behind her the confusion and want that had invaded her mind.

She knew he watched her, it was her business to know. Disconcerting that she cared so much about what he saw. Some ungovernable part of her would not stop insisting that she ignite a desire in him to match her own. Inara was wise enough to know that her anger over his scornful words played no small part in this, but the voice persisted. Show him, it whispered to her. Show him what he won't be able to turn away from. It was within her arts to do this, by increments so tiny and delicate no one but another Companion would be able to mark them. Exquisite, prolonged, a calculus of seduction, with voice, expression, posture, and unwavering attention to the minute details of his every response. What would be the tipping point? Which, exactly, of the thousand delicate invitations she could offer, which would impel him to cross the cold frontier between them?

Day or night, the unwelcome, incendiary visitations Mal would plague her. Frankly erotic needful, the images exposed would emerge reaching into her mind without warning drenched and leave her gasping struggling to maintain shattering her equanimity. Would he speak of desire, with that intoxicating, changeable voice?

And how would it look, the shame in his eyes afterward? What pleasure could be recompense? So her strategy in his presence, every day, was to contain herself utterly. To disregard her own confusion at every discontinuity of him. To pretend a lack of interest and esteem, although of late integrity looked, in her mind's eye, like nothing so much as a man, angry and dismissive but with hand extended, offering her a transmitter and a promise.

--

"Let Edelman know we'll be landing in Roscommon tomorrow." Mal replayed the details of the job as he left Zoe and Wash on the bridge. Refreshingly low-risk for them, with a sorely needed payout, Mal considered it a rare piece of good luck. Too early to say so out loud, though, even to Zoe. His luck, over the years, had proved surprisingly mutable.

It was going to necessitate a more complicated plan for getting Inara back to the ship, since their work would take them away from where Hawthorne might have met them to return her. That didn't displease Mal - let her know that he and the crew had things to do other than trailing after her in rapt admiration. The four days he'd spent without her were pleasantly uneventful and free of drama. No one else on the ship made him feel like an unrefined hump who ought to apologize for every damn thing he said and did on his own gorram ship. No one else monopolized so much of his time making him wonder what she was going to do or say next. No one else changed the very atmosphere of any room she was in, just by gliding through like some kind of runaway princess.

Besides, Radamus had enough coin to hire a fleet to escort her safely home. Probably pocket change for him. The man seemed a decent sort, for an obscenely rich bastard with hey, Mr. Satan, here's that soul you asked about luck with women. Mal determined to wave Inara with the details as soon as the work was confirmed with Edelman.

--

Inara was enjoying a late luncheon,compliments of the Tsioros' attentive kitchen staff, in the tiny, tree-sheltered cottage that served as her accomodations on the Eco family estate. Between the ball the evening before, and the riding party this morning, she had felt justified in excusing herself for a rare nap upon her return.

Not alone, though - it had been a faint surprise when two of her friends, fellow Companions from Sihnon, had elected to join her. Inara had forgotten this - having sisters around for company at all times. Not something she was accustomed to any more, but not unpleasant. The bed was certainly large enough for all to relax comfortably, and the warm, confiding voices of Delia and Seneca as she floated toward sleep were a welcome distraction from too-frequent thoughts of Serenity and her Captain. It was not sensible, the constant bewilderment, her mind and heart pitched into confusion at everything she wanted from him and for him.

Until very recently, Inara realized, she had never thought of needing room in her heart for anything but the Guild, her Sisters, and the joy she took in the centuries-old rituals and cherished traditions. The beauty and history had filled each of her days, blessed her with certainty and tranquility, and made her one of a fellowship of graceful and luminous souls stretching far back, even to the ancient days of Earth-That-Was.

She was set on a new path now, and feeling lost more often than she would admit to anyone. So there were new possibilities to contemplate. Inara had always imagined that if she ever chose to give her heart, it would be to a man like Radamus - good-natured, generous with his affections. A man with whom she could be comfortable, whose esteem she would never imagine doubting. If there were a true intimate in her future, surely he would be such a man. Inara wondered if such a life was on her path - to be one of two souls who understood each other the way she saw Radamus and Chrysanthe do, from the first day, it seemed, they had met. Love, Inara thought, should be about making a life and family together, raising children, sharing cultural and intellectual pleasures. Taking pride in each other's accomplishments. It was quietly amusing to Inara that this ideal man was such a portrait of her dear Radamus, yet between the two of them there had never been a single moment of romantic love.

Inara was to be in the company of accomplished and gallant gentlemen this week, and she resolved to spend her time reminding herself of the qualities that made a man extraordinary. She assured herself that this would allow her to put this troublesome attraction to the Captain to rest, and return to Serenity with the spirit of tranquility that had been a source of strength all her life.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Delia's voice was half muffled by her linen-covered pillow as she turned toward Inara and Seneca.

"About what?" Inara tucked the quilted silk coverlet, bejeweled all over with tiny mirrors like stars, across her bare legs. For a moment they all listened to the faint sound of the wind chimes hanging near the open doors.

Seneca answered. "About retiring, like Chrysanthe did. When you'll do it - what you'll go on to." She pulled a small pillow from the headboard and snuggled it into her chest, crossing her arms over it as she rolled onto her side.

"I think there are very few Companions who haven't thought about it." Inara contemplated the shimmers of sunlight, reflected from the lake outside, as they danced on the ceiling above her.

"That doesn't tell me what you think." Even half-asleep, Seneca was still the cleverest of them all.

"We used to lie in bed at school and talk about how it would be - our lives as Companions. Now we're talking about retiring."

"Still not an answer." Inara felt her sister take her hand from its place on the pillow and bring it to her lips; she smiled at the benediction. Seneca returned Inara's hand, but kept her own resting lightly over it.

"If I met someone I loved like Chrysa loves Radamus?" Delia's eyes were closed, her voice light and dreamy. Inara watched her smiling into her pillow until she fell into a sleep of her own.

Sleeping warm between her sisters, with the breeze coming in through the open patio doors, had been agreeable indeed.

Upon waking, Delia had rung Jhoti with an invitation to join them. So lunch proceeded at a very leisurely pace while the Companions reclined against the cool pillows and shared news of the events of the week. All agreed that Chrysanthe made the most radiant bride ever imagined, and that Radamus was the perfect husband for her. Very quickly, though, the conversation turned to the romantic intrigues, imagined or not, of the wedding week.

"Renata was so sleepy she almost tumbled off her horse!" Jhoti accepted a dish of delicately marinated artichokes and asparagus from Seneca.

Delia smiled knowingly. "She's been with Thabani every night - he must be an extraordinary lover to keep her attention." She pressed the cool swell of her glass, the wine glimmering like treasure, against her cheek.

Jhoti hummed a sensuous affirmation. "Mmmm, he is. We contracted together several times before I left Ariel." Inara was long accustomed to her friend skirting the edges of what was acceptable talk, given the Guild's insistence on discretion. She knew Jhoti would protest that they were in a private environment, and that any Companion could access much more explicit information about any Client with a quick look in the Registry, but Inara was less than comfortable. And Jhoti knew it.

"Speaking of extraordinary lovers, my dear," Seneca raised her eyebrows as she stretched out beside Inara, a dish of raspberries balanced on her abdomen, "I saw you walking in the shrubbery last night with Xavier. The two of you looked quite taken with each other."

Inara stretched langorously and demurred with a smile. "We both found ourselves quite warm from dancing. It was much cooler in the garden, so we walked." She took a few raspberries from the bowl Seneca offered.

From next to Inara, Jhoti propped herself up on the pillow she'd been using, and pressed the issue. "Is that all that happened?" She let one long finger trace a slow circle around the ruby pendant at Inara's throat. "He's such a handsome man."

"Would you like to hear that we were hiding behind the agapanthus, carrying on like a certain girl I knew from the Academy?" Inara rolled her eyes, but her expression was indulgent. "Hardly - give me credit for a little restraint."

"Oooh, were there...restraints, darling?" At this, Delia raised her arms, crossed at the wrist, over her head and sighed so theatrically that the entire party was reduced to helpless giggling.

They had regained only bare composure when a chime sounded, indicating a wave for Inara.

"It's Xavier - he can stand the torment no longer!" Inara shook her head as a fresh wave of giggles erupted from the bed. She settled herself at the foot of the bed, smiling in invitation, and activated the wave, expecting to see the man with whom she'd passed an extremely satisfying evening.

She found herself face-to-face with Malcolm Reynolds. Inara took faint satisfaction from noticing he looked as surprised as she felt, and perhaps as uncomfortable, as he took in her lightweight, silky sleep camisole. As she was schooling her features into a less intimate expression, she registered the abrupt silence from the women behind her.

"Mal." It took deliberate effort to keep her hands calmly in her lap, rather than reaching to adjust the thin straps of her top or pull on a shawl. It had been a mistake, Inara realized, to use his given name in this company. It would not escape their notice.

"I thought it was full day there - you were...sleeping?"

"Just a nap, we were riding quite early this morning and I - " Stop babbling. She saw Mal's gaze pass on each side of her, and she knew her friends, in their warm weather lounging sets, were visible. Inara imagined she knew exactly what Mal, or any other man in the universe, might be thinking. Four Companions, spending an leisurely afternoon in bed - it had been a source of much amusement, when they were at the Academy, how any young man they met would insinuate such questions into the most innocent conversation about Companion life. Even more amusing, for schoolgirls, to encourage, with gossamer subtlety, the speculation through coy demurring about discretion, tradition, and secrets between Sisters. She assumed her most businesslike voice. "Thank you for calling. We should finalize our itineraries for a meeting place." Inara felt her friends easing their way closer to her and the screen, and heard Jhoti hum, once again, in a low tone.

He ran a hand through his hair. "We've got a job'll take us Roscommon way for -"

"Inara," Delia chided, interrupting with the confidence of a woman accustomed to having men vie for her attention, "who is this? You have to introduce us to your friend."

"Of course." Inara schooled her expression into the most bland pleasantry. "Ladies, may I present Captain Malcolm Reynolds." She paused, watching for any change of expression from Mal. By all that is holy, Malcolm Reynolds, if you dare to smirk at 'ladies,' she thought, and I'll fly back to Serenity and stab you myself. He looked amused, but nothing stab-worthy. "Captain Reynolds, these are my friends Seneca, Delia, and Jhoti." Mal nodded a greeting.

"Captain? Ah, so it's your...vessel Inara's so taken with." Seneca addressed Mal with what too many, over the years, had mistaken for a friendly, harmless curiosity. "How long have you been giving our Sister a ride?"

"Inara likes rockets," Delia sang out, not bothering to contain her glee.

Inara answered the question before Mal could. "I've been renting one of Serenity's shuttles for almost three months." Her question was for Mal. "How soon do you expect to conclude - " She saw Mal begin to answer, but they were interrupted again.

Jhoti had tilted her head prettily as she slid closer to the screen, carefully examining the image of Mal's face. "Remember how upset Inara was when Mistress Chao told her it was impossible for her to have a blue-eyed baby?" Affirmative sounds from the others told Inara they did recall that particular obsession from her past. "It was quite a moving argument from our girl, I can still hear you advocating for the power of true love over genetics." The Captain, she saw, could not resist raising an eyebrow at this bit of news.

"Darling, I was twelve." Inara enunciated the last word precisely and sighed, shaking her head as if in pity. "Who knew you ever paid attention in Mistress Chao's class."

Now Jhoti's eyes were on Inara, studying her as Inara tried again to address herself to the Captain. "Roscommon? When do you expect to be finished? Because if necessary I can speak to -"

Another interruption from Delia. The auburn-haired Companion's sly glance traveled between Inara and Mal, and her smile was growing. "You're as good as ever at keeping secrets. Poor Xavier - does he know he isn't going to stand a chance with you once you get back to your -?"

By now Inara could see that Mal was losing patience, and was certainly not going to ask after the unfortunate Xavier. "You can wave later, let Wash know when we -"

"Inara." It was impossible to ignore the challenge in Seneca's voice. "Why didn't you tell us your Captain is so beautiful?"

Of course they'd noticed - just as surely as she had, the first time she'd laid eyes on him. It was not the least part of a Companion's journey to celebrate the beauty in those around her, and Inara had never yet been in the business of denying what her eyes told her. She'd grown up surrounded by an extravagance of beauty - one glance at the women in this particular room could attest to that - and was aware of its allure, and its limits. She could have appreciated the odd perfection of him, with her mind never disturbed in its tranquility, if he hadn't been who he was. If who he was didn't change from hour to hour.

So she'd told them about the sweet mechanic, the libidinous merc, the charmingly silly pilot and his unperturbable, deadly wife. About Serenity herself, as much as she could, and her friends had nodded understanding at Inara's attachment to the ship's hidden beauty. But of the Captain she had offered only the barest details, always in the context of someone else's story. She'd needed them to think there was nothing to tell. She needed to believe it herself. And now things were about to get very, very bad because to one side was Mal, to the other her Sisters, and she was trapped in the middle with this naked, ruinous truth.

Inara was quiet for an extended moment, her eyes never wavering from Mal's face. He had gone very still, and she could not have named the expression she saw there. She made her choice. "Of course," she replied, in a tone noticeable for the absence of warmth. "Shall I fly about with someone homely?"

Delia draped her arm around Inara, stroking her hair, and Inara consented to rest her head on the other Companion's shoulder. "He misses you. That's so very sweet." Inara knew she was being watched very carefully, and not only by Mal. She smiled with perfect composure.

"He hates me."

The gasps from the other three would have been laughable, if Inara found any of it even remotely funny.

"That's - I do not." Mal was stony with disapproval.

"He hates me." Inara repeated the words as if she had not heard him at all, and her warm and purring voice belied the sad words. Her laughing eyes implored manifestly unneeded sympathy from her companions. "He thinks I'm despicable trash and he's not shy about saying so." The other women were giggling at her pout. Inara knew she had her audience - she was back in control. You see, Captain, I'm just like you thought. She blinked back imaginary tears and continued. "He'd like me so much better if I carried a gun." Scathing now, her voice a shining blade. "The good Captain only tolerates me in his home because he desperately needs the rent money." She chanced a fraction of a glance at the cortex screen. Mal had crossed his arms, and he was regarding her through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm sure he'd love to toss me off the ship as soon as he strings together two or three jobs that go well - of course, with his track record, I doubt that'll happen anytime soon." She lowered her tone enough to pass for a whisper without actually being one. "There are always complications that for some reason," and her tone communicated perfectly what she thought the reason was, "he doesn't foresee." Inara gave an elegant shrug. Her face showed only delicate sympathy at this unfortunate truth.

He watched her for a long moment before he spoke, and Inara was stunned to see him laugh. "I've got to carry on being mean, desperate, and stupid out here - you enjoy your party." Mal smiled at the women on each side of Inara. "Ladies." He terminated the wave.

"Darling," Delia had to bite her lips to hold back her mirth, "I think you hurt his feelings."

--

Mal told himself, and told himself again, that it was a relief, getting to see her as he'd always suspected - self-involved and haughty. Not comfortable to have the truth laid out before strangers, but he'd put up with worse on just about every job he took. Hearing her disdain for him was better than anything he'd come up with to shut down the adolescent fantasies he'd had of the two of them somehow finding their way to each other. No more kisses, no more whispers. Still wanted to bed her - the bed itself was actually optional, in these imaginings. Against a wall, across a table, her panting in some kind of frenzy. These, he had no problem with - against all odds he was not a dead man, she was a desirable woman, and a body was going to do what it was going to do.

After the enlightening conversation, he'd told Wash to expect her to wave him with the details of her return. He should have had the pilot call in the first place, still didn't want to contemplate why he hadn't. He had a job to think on, complications to foresee, a boat to keep in the air. So when the wave came the next day, and Wash tried to bounce it to him, Mal declined to pick up. "You work it out between yourselves, you know our schedule," he told his pilot.

"It's not Inara."

"Then who?" He didn't get a lot of social calls.

"Radamus Eco. The blushing groom?"

Mal sighed. "Bounce it down." Didn't take too much imagination to see what this was about. She'd found herself a better berth, her rich friend was taking care of the details while she settled in. Maybe that Xavier her pal had mentioned. Probably for the best. He activated the cortex screen.

"Eco. What can I do for you?"

There was no preamble. "You can show some civility when you're speaking to a friend of mine, a guest in my house."

"Pardon?" So - her complaints about him had played so well to her first audience, she'd taken her show on the road.

"What did you say to her, Reynolds?" Not a trace of the jolly chubster who'd traipsed around the skating lake with little Kaylee. The question was cold and sharp. But if Inara had repeated all her complaints - he's not shy about saying so - what's the interrogatory about?

Mal had tolerated a lifetime's worth of the assumptions of the Core folk. "Why'm I talking about it to you? Not her you married, was it?" No, but it might as well have been. Rich, mannerly, got the right political leanings, all enlightened about a woman taking to bed for money, there was nothing about this man for Inara and her friends to object to.

"I know you waved her yesterday afternoon at the cottage and you said something to upset her." Radamus stood up and loomed his large frame into the cortex screen. "Inara's a dear friend, and I won't have her bullied. Courage a bit lacking when you're talking to someone your own size?"

That was interesting. Mal had been waiting for the I-have-Alliance-friends threat, but Snowflake Boy was going schoolhouse on him. It actually made him like the guy more. Or at least dislike him less. He shook his head, held up both hands in mock surrender. "I called to set up a meeting, like she asked. She was fine when we finished."

"Well, she wasn't fine afterward." Radamus ran a hand through his hair, and the black wisps waggled in censure. "She made her excuses prettily, made sure no one could call her on anything, but she missed dinner and last night's recital. Her favorite quartet, she hasn't seen them since -" Radamus' voice was markedly softer, and his gaze seemed to have turned inward. "Inara doesn't wear her feelings openly, but I've known her for years, and she was very upset."

"Maybe she was...otherwise engaged last night. Business opportunity, or the like."

A brief head shake. "No."

Mal let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and shrugged. "Point your fingers elsewhere, I didn't say anything untoward."

Neither spoke for a long moment. "No, you didn't, did you." Radamus spoke slowly, and he was looking at Mal with an appraising thoughtfulness that made Mal think the man didn't miss much. "It wasn't what you said to her at all." He continued to watch Mal as the time stretched out empty between them.

Mal found himself speaking, more to fill the silence than anything. "Maybe she had a tiff with one of the other -"

Radamus ignored this. "It was what she said to you."

This was not what Mal wanted to hear. The thought of Inara, regretful and sad over the bitch act she'd pulled on the wave - ""Fraid I don't follow you." Don't want to.

"Yes you do." Radamus dismissed the lie unequivocally, and Mal found himself wondering what the man did for a living.

There was no point in arguing. Mal shrugged. "Inara doesn't need to like me to rent the shuttle. Might be I just caught her at a bad time. She's plenty civil to my crew - I got no bone to pick with her."

"She's very dear to all of us." Mal watched the other man smooth broad fingers over a shining forehead. "I would consider it a personal favor if you watched out for her."

Mal nodded once. "Anyone on my ship, I see to."

Radamus smiled ruefully, shaking his head. "And I'd consider it a miracle if she allowed it. She never has, yet. But we can't help but try."

So, the newlywed tycoon still had a weakness for his old friend. Even without Jayne's breakfast soliloquy, Mal would have wondered exactly how well Radamus knew Inara. "Pretty girl's bound to have champions lined up a country mile." He watched the other man shake his head again. Radamus seemed to be considering whether to speak.

"I know Inara as well as anyone can claim to, and I have to say - you may not believe it, looking at that face of hers every day, but the most extraordinary thing about her is her heart."

--

It was another day before Hawthorne intercepted Serenity on the return trip from Roscommon. Kaylee was near dancing with impatience to see Inara again. She also, Mal suspected, wanted to look over the changes in Hawthorne's cargo bay since the conclusion of the wedding party's flight. Mal had considered sending Zoe to oversee the transfer, but decided against doing anything that might stir up drama. As soon as she stepped aboard, and her dark eyes found his, he knew it was out of his hands.

At his nod, porters went bustling by, laden with her luggage and several pieces he didn't remember from before.

He kept his expression neutral and watched her embrace Kaylee tightly for a long moment, and wondered, before he could mentally stop himself with a curse, what it was Inara whispered so intently into her friend's ear. They broke away with a smile, with which Inara also greeted Zoe and even a jolly, leering Jayne.

He got right to the point, one finger wagging to signal a question. "Hey Inara, did your little bitty friend get married 'cause she's knocked up? That cloak she was wearing, made it hard to suss out her shape."

She behaved as if she hadn't heard him. Jayne continued, clearly very cheered to see Inara after her absence. "You can tell right away, rack gets bigger before the belly pops out. Nipples darken up, get real sensitive too. It's fun."

Inara smiled at him sweetly. "Funny, none of this came up in conversation at the ceremony."

"Got to watch out for the gag reflex, is the only thing." Jayne raised his eyebrows, tipped his head forward to emphasize the seriousness of his advice.

"That's...considerate."

Jayne nodded acceptance of Inara's compliment as she sailed by him, arm in arm with a beaming Kaylee.

"You tired? 'Cause I want to hear about everything! Did ya have the best week ever?"

"Well, I've had worse." They reached Mal, standing near the stairs at the back of the cargo bay. "Captain Reynolds."

Mal decided to ignore the question in her eyes. She's a paying tenant, not a date for the school dance. He smiled. "Welcome aboard." Mal nodded and moved to the comm to check in with Wash about disconnecting from Hawthorne, then made his way to the bridge. He stayed there until dinner time, ignoring Wash's quizzical looks and his questions of diminishing subtlety, and telling himself he was not hiding from his tenant.

--

He's hiding from me, Inara told herself incredulously. He actually wants to refuse me the opportunity to apologize so he can hold it over my head. Before she realized it, she was scowling at a vivid mental image of him, which did not bode well for her prospects of getting through this apology with any degree of grace.

At dinner, surely. He thinks I won't speak in front of the crew. But Mal did not join them for dinner - some excuse about having reading to catch up on. Even Zoe raised an eyebrow.

Which is how she found herself pushing open the door to his bunk after a brief knock. "I'm coming down."

--

Didn't think he had to lock the door to his bunk on his own gorram ship. But there she was, another unforeseen complication, wiggling her way down his ladder.

He grunted a reply from where he was stretched out on the narrow bed. "Don't."

She ignored him. "If you won't come to me, you leave me no choice."

"I'm naked." Worth a try.

She did not slow her pace down the ladder. "Good."

Mal's voice rose an octave. "Good?"

"You're less likely to scurry off and hide somewhere without clothes." She reached the ladder's bottom, turned around, and eyed him critically from his shirt collar to his stockinged feet. "Naked must mean something different in your world."

"That it does, darlin." It was too dim in the shadowy room to mark the expression that moved swiftly across her face. "And I don't scurry."

She waited a long moment. "But you do hide."

Mal flapped the book at her. "We put the Roscommon job to bed, I gave myself the night off." He brought the book back to front and center, knowing full well she wasn't going to be dissuaded.

Inara planted herself in the middle of the room, took a deep breath, and started what was obviously a rehearsed statement. "I wanted to say -"

"Not necessary." Still looking at the page in front of him, not that he could have recalled a line of the text.

She took a step closer, holding her own hands like she needed encouragement from them. "I'm sorry I was so -"

He couldn't resist. "Bitchy?"

"Shameful." The sound of her voice, even more than the word she chose, surprised Mal into making the mistake. He looked at her. He looked and saw, how could he not see, her abashed face and sorrowful eyes. He saw decency, and felt the useful distance he'd tried to put between them vanish like stardust.

Mal turned back to his book, spoke over its spine. "Everything you said was true."

"No, no it wasn't. And I knew it wasn't, it was just -" Inara shook her head as her voice trailed off into nearly a whisper.

Mal kept himself lying down, kept his voice even. "What wasn't? The part where I'm dirt poor? Part where I won't pretend I like your line of work? Part where I got a skunk's luck with most jobs I do?" He rested the book on his chest and continued. "I can understand you want it clear with your friends we got no kind of personal...acquaintance."

Inara seemed about to speak, then sighed softly and was quiet a while. She did not stir from her spot in the middle of Mal's bunk, but lifted her eyes to meet his. "I didn't mean to cause you any -"

His eyes scouted quickly across her face, checking for tears. None. Mal appreciated that. He'd rather eat gravel than deal with a tear-leaking Inara in his bunk. "You didn't cause me any anything."

"You're not upset?"

Mal smiled. "You'll upset me when you stab or shoot me." He saw her eyes flicker momentarily down his chest, to where the gauze had been, and he suddenly remembered the book resting there. "I'm in the middle of a chapter," he explained, pointing to the book, "if you don't mind. Unless," he could not refrain from adding, "I'm too beautiful for you to tear yourself away."

Inara sighed again, but a grin was growing across her face. She gestured at him, still stretched out on the bed. "Yes, but you're only reading." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'm going to the cargo bay to watch Jayne lift weights."


	5. Where the Ocean Meets the Land

**Disclaimer: Joss owns everything. Just waiting for my Big Damn Sequel! **

"I've been close - there are little settlements dotted all along the coast, as far as the rail line goes." Wash leaned back in his pilot's seat and grinned at Zoe. "Shiny!"

She gifted him with the smile no one else got to see. "Shiny?" Zoe settled into his lap, waited for him to lean forward so she could wrap an arm around his neck, sent her hand nestling along his collarbone.

"Wife on the beach - hence the shiny." Wash kissed the smile, thoroughly, then took possession of the other hand, stroking each tapering finger in turn.

She listened to the humming that was never a bad sign. "You got plans, husband?"

He whispered the answer, a song against her neck. "Always."

Teasing him a little, Zoe arched an eyebrow and used her most innocent voice. "Apart from the clams?"

"Sexy, sexy, sexy plans." More humming. Zoe had heard that song before.

"Might not be warm enough to swim." She glanced at the weather report for Fenton 17, a tiny outpost far from the city of New Melbourne.

"I'll keep you warm." Both arms came around her.

Her hand rested over his heart. "Be a mite windy, too."

"Dare I hope for goosebumps? Because I like making them go away as much as I like, well, making them."

"Any chance of landing my boat? Because the good people of Fenton are waiting for their illegal lumber." Mal got progressively louder as he climbed the stairs into the bridge. "And I'd like to actually _gain_ my ill-gotten gains. But if you two have more lovin-up to do, by all means - " he finished the sentence with an impressive scowl at Zoe. "I need you in the bay when we land." The scowl traveled to Wash. "Land."

Wash sighed and relinquished the first mate, letting his hand linger on her forearm until she stepped slowly away, following her Captain down the stairs.

They made their way quickly through the ship. "You anticipate any problems, sir?"

"We'll just need to help Bartlett get the shipment well-stowed before the train comes through, but he says it ain't due until tomorrow." They passed through the galley and Zoe saw Mal glance quickly around the room. _No, she's not here, sir, _was what she thought, but the first mate let the unasked question go unanswered. "Just a precaution, he doesn't want anyone takin' note of the lack of tariff stamps before he can get 'em all - stamped."  
Zoe thought about this as they continued. "He's got his own stamp?"

"Not asking too many questions about how he accomplished that, but folks what need it get a better deal from him than from the goods that come by rail." Mal turned toward her at the top of the stairs to the cargo bay, but Zoe saw his eyes flicker past her for a scant moment. "Nothing grows tall enough out of the bog to make decent lumber, I reckon."

"It's a bog picnic, sir? And me without my bog gown."

Mal snorted at her. "The settlement's on the bog side of some kind of estuary - too busy carryin' on to look at the map? We land there, take the boat across, dig up our dinner on the ocean side. Part of the payment, Bartlett like to fell over himself with the helpful when I said our mechanic would take a look at his desalinizing system. It'll be...nice."

"You've done this clam-baking before?"

"No, but your husband has, how hard can it be?" Mal elected not to comment on the look Zoe gave him. "'Sides, Bartlett is loaning us all the gear, and I have a diagram." He waved a small datapad.

Wash's voice spoke out from the comm. "We'll have one more for dinner - Inara is en route from the city."

"Thought she was booked up through tomorrow." Mal's tone was even.

"Last job cancelled, apparently. She expects to be here within the hour."

Both men waited for Kaylee's excited comments to subside.

Mal spoke into the com again. "Jayne."

"Mal?"

"We're landing - got cargo to tote. Report to the bay."

"Yeah Mal."

It didn't take long for Wash to land _Serenity_, or for Mal and Zoe to make contact with Bartlett. The man wasn't old but seemed permanently wrinkled, as though a lifetime of bog dwelling had left him irredeemably pruny. They stored the lumber in some falsely decrepit looking low-slung graying buildings that hugged the edge of the bog, then squelched through the mud to what Mal took to be the settlement's trading post. Bartlett had payment for them, and a substantial array of gear - pots, tarps, foil, some short flat knives, a few shovels, some odd-looking rakes, as well as a bag of brown-skinned potatoes and onions he'd retrieved from the cellar. He produced a brace of bottles - dark red, corked at the top and cloudy with promise - but forebore to part with them.

"Sure would like to meet with that mechanic."  
Mal called Kaylee, indicated that Jayne should stay with her at the post, and he and Zoe loaded up with gear to make their way to the set of small row boats Bartlett had pointed out for their use. "Jayne," he cautioned under his breath, "don't stir nothing up. Don't forget the peat bricks. And I've counted them bottles."

Mal left the store with a nod to Bartlett, then called the ship again. "Wash, meet us at the boats. You're supervising this operation, I want you on site."

"Okey-dokey. What about Inara? She just landed but she wants a few minutes to change outfits."

Mal considered this for a moment. "Tell her to meet Kaylee and Jayne at the store. He can row them over." He hadn't planned on her being here. This was just supposed to be a pleasant afternoon for his hardworking crew, before he went back to being his usual _hun dan_ self. Mal told himself he was not going to stand around, hat in hand like a schoolboy while Inara primped - and this would give her an opportunity to admire the manly perfection of Jayne flexing his way across the estuary.

The slim wooden boats were loaded with gear by the time Wash arrived, wearing an impressively garish Hawaiian shirt and carrying a blanket and Kaylee's folding chair under one arm. Mal turned his back as he shoved off so as not to witness Wash's arranging of the folded blanket along the flat wooden seat he designated for Zoe, or his insistence on taking his wife by a well-kissed hand to help her into the rowboat.

It took only a few minutes to cross the estuary to the long, sandy peninsula, and Mal and Wash set about digging a pit while Zoe waded barefoot into the shallow surf a few meters to gather long strands of dark green seaweed into one of the biggest pots. The breeze came in from the ocean without much pause; but the sun was warm in a cloudless spring sky, and both men soon decided to store their shirts over the bow of one of the small boats.

A familiar shout brought all eyes up to the slim grey boat gliding quickly across the water. Both oars were stored in the boat, as Jayne, seeing Mal and Wash, had taken a moment's break to shed his shirt as well. Kaylee's rainbow umbrella shook with her glee, angled as it was slightly over the side of the boat. Inara - or, more correctly, Inara's extraordinarily voluminous woven blue sun hat - had edged Kaylee's umbrella nearly into sidecar position. As soon as Jayne was satisfied of the chance to earn his fair share of feminine admiration, he took up the oars and continued rowing, bringing the little boat rapidly to the sand.

Zoe approached the group from the water, hauling a bucket full of seaweed and salt water. Wash hastened over to trade a kiss for it, then took her hand as both approached the boat.

"Thanks - and I've actually piloted aircraft with a smaller wingspan than that hat. Most impressive." Wash cocked his head and wiggled the fingers of one hand at the marvelous hat. "Do you need a permit of any kind for that?" He and Inara exchanged smiles as she handed him a basket of supplies from the galley.

Inara smoothed the brim of her hat with gentle fingers. Her laquered nails, Mal saw, were some kind of shimmery and opalescent color, just the shade of a seashell's glowing inner curve. Perfect. _Was that even necessary?_ he asked himself.

"It's actually quite comfortable for a day in the sun - and the weather couldn't be nicer, I'm glad I could join you." She brushed her hands lightly over the front of her dress, some filmy, flowing thing, all colors of blue melting together, tied at one shoulder and opening in folds around her knees when she walked. Mal noticed it was shorter and maybe looser than most of her frocks, and perfectly matched to her ribbony little flat shoes and the golden chain, winking with blue stones, around one graceful ankle. She couldn't have looked more out of place, Mal thought, with fairy wings resting on her back.

Jayne made his way to where Mal and Wash had been digging. "Get the peat bricks out the boat, Little Man, I'll dig."

Wash shrugged. "We're nearly done here, Jayne."

"Womenfolk can see me from across the way by the store." The big man's face was serious. "_You_ got nothin' to gain from this, but I do." Jayne took the shovel Wash passed him and set to digging with relish, making sure to keep himself in magnificent profile for any admirers that might happen into town.

Kaylee ambled up from the boat carrying some kind of flat frame with plastic sheeting stretched over it. "It's a kite!" she explained in response to Mal's question. "That Bartlett fella had some odds and ends laying around he didn't mind parting with when I fiddled with the drainage pump in the cellar. Didn't take but a minute - and now we got a kite! And some other stuff," she added vaguely with a gesture across the water to where _Serenity_ was parked. "He was real nice."

"Yet another helpless victim of Kaylee's charm." Wash returned from the boat carrying the peat bricks for the fire, as well as a hefty orange ceramic jug beaded with condensation. "What's this?"

"Juice from the bog berries - all those sweet-smelling flowery bushes get red berries on them come fall." Kaylee waved again across the estuary. "I got them bottles of the good stuff too, set 'em in the water 'longside the boats to keep cool 'til dinner." She fished a spool of twine out of the pocket of her lightweight pants. "Can I fly my kite, Cap'n?"

Mal couldn't keep the laughter from his eyes as he inspected Kaylee's kite. It was no more than a homely garbage bag stretched over some sticks, but he figured if his mechanic built it, the blasted thing would stay in the air just to please her. "Don't let it fall in the fire. And no one's swimmin' out to fetch it for you if that twine snaps and it dives in the ocean. Take it down there." He pointed at an empty stretch of beach to the south of them.

A quicksilver kiss, warmer than the sunshine against his cheek, and she was gone, pulling a laughing Inara with her. "Ya don't gotta run much, with this headwind. Just hold it up over your head and let go when I holler. Gonna fly real pretty."

Mal and Wash grabbed buckets and shouldered their clam rakes and walked north on the beach a short while, stopping at the place Bartlett had pointed out as being likely to yield a decent number of clams. Jayne continued to dig the fire pit, and Zoe set about gathering large rocks to heat in the fire. This job only took her a few minutes, since there were rocks on the beach that had obviously been used by earlier parties. She strolled up the beach, away from where Jayne was building the fire with the rocks and peat bricks, and settled herself in Kaylee's folding chair, the instructive datapad on her lap.

The two men rolled up the legs of their trousers and waded into the surf, using their rakes in an attempt to locate beds of razor clams. Mal was listening to the surf, and to Kaylee's voice in the distance, when Wash spoke.

"She likes you."

Mal looked up at this, but his pilot was still stirring at the sand with the rake. There was no doubt in his mind who Wash was referring to. For a moment, he let his eyes scan the ribbon of beach until he found the round blue hat, a safe distance away.

"She really doesn't," he replied. He remembered her face when she said it: _He thinks I'm despicable trash and he's not shy about saying so. He hates me. _Mal didn't consider letting Wash know the details of last week's conversation - he hadn't told anyone. He didn't want her fretting over what his crew thought about what she'd said.

"She watches you. When you're doing that thing you do, that thing where you don't look at her, or that other thing where against all probability and reason you pretend you don't know she's in the room? She watches you." Wash had stopped raking now and stepped out of the surf to drag one of the buckets to the water's edge. He filled it with water and pitched in a few bumpy-shelled clams.

"Well, when you're walking through a barnyard you watch out for horseshit. Doesn't mean you want it in the parlor." Mal leaned down and filled his hands with clams. He crossed the few steps to the bucket and added them to the growing supply. "How many of these we need?"

"Several dozen - we'll get that easy. They must be truly sick of clams in town." Wash pulled the second bucket alongside the first, and waggled his fingers at Zoe, who was still sitting nearby. "How about we send her a note: 'Do you like Mal? Check yes or no.' You can fold it up in a triangle like a football and -"

"How about you _bi zui_? She's a tenant. And a Companion." Mal raked at the sand. "I'm the fella with a ship full of contraband - and that's only on the good days - duckin' the law on every planet that'll deign to let us land."

"Her friend retired." Wash uncovered another set of clamshells.

Mal raked harder. "Her _friend_ found herself a man that can buy her diamonds the size of chicken eggs. Me, it's a shiny day when I can afford eggs."

"Has it escaped your captainly notice that you've already got two brilliant, gorgeous women that are so loyal to you they'd follow you anywhere? _Sir?" _Wash heaved some clams at the bucket, overshot his target, and bent to retrieve the clams where they rocked in the shallow surf.  
That particular form of address was so unexpected from Wash that Mal stopped laying waste to the sand and squinted at his pilot. "What's this about?"

"Nothing." Wash frowned as he leaned on his rake. "It's not that they've got no other options, Mal, either one of them. But they're with you. Ever ask yourself why?" He stared intently at the sand as he slid the rake across it. "I do."

Mal was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "I reckon it's 'cause they -"

"I'll tell you what it's not. It's not your personality." Wash shook his head at Mal. "You're an enigma - a fractious enigma. Fractious, wrapped in morose, wrapped in intolerant, wrapped in mad."

"How's about violent?" Mal waved the business end of the rake at his pilot.

"You've already got two - all I'm saying is maybe third time's a charm."

--

"He likes you."

There was no doubt in Inara's mind who Kaylee meant by _he_. She glanced quickly north along the beach, let her gaze touch him, shirtless and browning and beautiful, with those inexplicable suspenders hanging from the buttons on his trousers.

Inara returned her gaze to Kaylee. "I really don't think so." She looked at the roll of twine in her hands. "Last week, when I was away at the wedding? He called on the Cortex, only because I had asked him to, and I said some terribly insulting things to him."

Kaylee considered this for a moment. "Worse than _whore_?" she asked gently, her eyes on her friend's face.

"I was angry for that, I suppose. But I tried to embarrass him." She handed the twine to Kaylee. "It was just wretched."

Kaylee passed Inara the kite. "What'd he do?"

Inara shrugged. "Laughed at me." She remembered the way his voice had sounded. _I'll just carry on being stupid, desperate, and mean._ "I was behaving like a bratty teenager. I apologized," she finished lamely.

"Prolly knew he had it coming." Kaylee nodded stoutly. "Good for you to show him not to cross you."

"Oh, he's terrified of me." Inara rolled her eyes.

"He watches you."  
"Well, that's...he's a...I would think it's because..." At Kaylee's nod, Inara raised the kite over her head. She watched her friend unroll the twine as she backed away. Another nod, a gentle pull, and Kaylee had the kite in the air. She was beaming as she made her way back to Inara, letting out twine and watching her kite dance over the waves.

"When you're not looking, when you're turned away getting something in the galley; when we're all talking and you're looking at me - he watches you."

Inara sighed. "_Mei mei_, there's nothing about me that he approves of. Nothing. Besides, he's renting me a shuttle. I know he's very dear to you, but he and I have a business arrangement."

"That's how it started with your friend, right? Business, with her and that nice Radamus fella? Now look at 'em."

"Radamus respected Chrysa's work, her standing as a Companion. From the first, he was proud of her." Inara let the rest of her thought go unvoiced.

Kaylee shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt to be a little friendly and see what happens."

--  
They made their way back at Jayne's call - the peat had burned nearly to ash, and the rocks were glowing hot. Wash took the lead at layering the damp seaweed, the clams, and the vegetables into the pit. Once it was blanketed with the wet tarp and well-covered with sand, the crew passed the time taking turns with Kaylee's kite and finding seashells in the surf.

Dinner was more of a chance to relax than they had taken in a long time. Zoe and Wash spread out on the blanket he'd brought, passing each other food, whispering, and leaning into each other. Kaylee reclined contentedly in her folding chair, her plate balanced on her lap.

"Real nice picnic you got for us, Cap'n." She smiled, waited for him to return a smile of his own.

"Remember that next time you're of a mind to call me a _kuh-ooh duh lao bao jurn_."

Jayne ate standing up. "Can't see any prospects sitting down," he explained with a nod toward the outpost.

This left Mal and Inara. He watched her start to fold her legs under her on the sand. "Hold up." He passed her his plate and strode away to the boat. Inara watched him come back, stretching his arms into his shirt and carrying something folded under his arm.

"Allow me." With a wry smile, he shook out his coat, let it rest on the sand, and gestured for Inara to sit. Blinking a little, she did. Mal fastened a few buttons, then settled in next to her and reclaimed his dinner.

--  
"We're going in the boat now - down there." Wash indicated the southern end of the estuary, where the land jutted out and tall shrubs obscured the view. "I will be rowing in a manly fashion, and my wife will be sighing over the...manliness of me. We don't want company." He and Zoe gathered up their blanket and were soon skimming away over the darkening water, heads bent intently to each other.

"They'll be sexin." Jayne chuckled.

Mal was watching Inara trace absently in the sand with one contented finger. Characters. The first one, _Serenity_. The second one he did not see - she saw him reading her words and brushed them away, looking almost bashful.

Kaylee's voice opened the silence. "Hey, my shoes! 'Nara, we left our shoes on the beach!"

Inara chuckled softly, looking at her own bare feet. "So we did. Shall we walk?" She crossed to Kaylee and extended a hand. They headed down the beach, arms around each other's waists, both shaded from the late day sun by the hat Inara still wore.

"What'd ya think of dinner?" Kaylee gave her friend a squeeze.

Inara smiled. "It was nice. The dinner."

"And _friendly_." Another squeeze.

"Kaylee, we were only -" It puzzled her, how oddly nervous and shy she had felt sitting next to Mal on the beach at dinner. _It's not like we've never sat next to each other before_, she chided herself. And laying out his coat for her - _them_, Inara revised - to sit on? Any other Companion would have expected no less as her due, but from this man...

"I hope we get to come back." Kaylee broke away to turn a lithe and graceful cartwheel in the sand. She landed with a flourish, and Inara applauded.

"I hope so, too." Inara reflected on her work in New Melbourne. She'd engaged with two clients, neither one of whom she'd consent to see again. A detached part of her mind wondered why she was so quick to find fault with new clients these days. But there were other prospects she could explore on future trips.

Kaylee turned another cartwheel. "We got some cider, too, for after dinner."

"We'll be here until after dark?"

"Why not? Gonna be pretty as Christmas when the stars come out - romantic, too." Kaylee grinned at her friend and skipped ahead quickly, away from Inara's protests and into another cartwheel. But when she landed -

"Aaaargh!" Kaylee sank to an awkward sitting position in the glinting sand, holding her left foot.

Inara rushed over, bent down. "What is it?"  
Kaylee pulled her hand back; both hand and the foot it covered were red with blood. Inara looked more closely - there was an ugly, jagged gash along the pale arch of her friend's foot. She heard Kaylee gasp at the sight.

"It's okay, _mei mei_. Don't look at it." Dropping her hat in the sand, Inara pulled free the silk scarf that had held back her hair. She brushed away what sand she could, then quickly wound the scarf around Kaylee's foot several times, tying the ends at the top of Kaylee's instep.

"Your scarf's gonna be ruined!" Kaylee tried to shake her foot, then hissed at the pain.

"Don't worry about that."

"Gotta get that cut cleaned out." Kaylee's face was much paler than it had been a moment ago.

Inara crouched next to Kaylee's side. "Let me pull you up. Stand on your other foot - see, there's the shell you landed on. Does it hurt badly?" She put an arm around Kaylee's waist. "It's okay. Wrap your arm around my shoulders; give me your hand. We'll just go slowly, it's not far."

--

They were coming back arm in arm, just as they'd gone, but Inara's hat was missing. Her hair was blowing around in the wind, and for a moment Mal found himself able to do nothing more than watch her. It was the first time, he realized, that she didn't look like picture book perfection, and he could not look away. _Mussed. Maybe like it looks spread out on those pillows of hers in the morning._ Then he thought to wonder what happened to the hat - not lost, surely, something of that size? - when he looked again and realized Kaylee was limping, badly, her lips pressed together. He started off toward them.

Jayne, still shirtless, sprinted bulkily by him to where the women approached. "What'd you do?"

"Cut my foot up nasty." Kaylee was balancing on one foot. Mal saw that the other was wrapped tightly in a festive-looking scarf, stained with some red at the edges.

"All that flipping about - " Mal growled, striding up behind the merc.

"Don't worry." Jayne lifted Kaylee in his arms, and she beamed up at him, suddenly much more cheerful, and snuggled against his broad chest. All ten of her toes wiggled. "Let's go back to the ship and get that little bitty foot cleaned up, girly." The merc flexed his arms around her and smiled suggestively. "You ticklish?"

She slid an arm around Jayne's shoulder, cuddled closer against his neck. Kaylee threw an excited smile at Inara, then wrinkled her nose at Jayne. "Mmm, you're so...warm." She patted a saucy hand on his chest. "That depends on who's doing the - hey, who cuts your hair?" She was examining a spot behind Jayne's ear, and her smile was gone. "Cause they don't know what they're doing. You gotta let me fix that." She called back over Jayne's shoulder as he turned away from the sea. "We'll be right back for the cider. I'm not missing that cider." She continued to explain about the haircut, but her words were lost on the breeze as a deflated Jayne marched away toward the small boats.  
Mal looked at Inara. "I'd better make sure Jayne don't get a competent haircut."

Her smile was fond. "Kaylee's a sensible girl."

"There such a creature?" Inara only shook her head, still smiling a little.

Mal exhaled, found himself needing to say something. "Sure is emptying out here."

Inara's eyes traced the ribbon of beach. "Completely." She was quiet for a few moments. "I thought I'd go retrieve our shoes." She turned to retrace her steps.

Mal fell in step beside her. "What about the astonishing hat?"

"I must have thrown it when Kaylee got hurt - probably blown into the water by now."

"Terrible shame - must be all the fashion on Sihnon."

"Last season, yes. Now it's solar veils." Inara waved a hand in a circle around her face. "But I love that hat." She raised her eyes to the waving line of surf as they walked. "On Sihnon this would be lined with pleasure boats, hotels, galleries, every luxury one can imagine."

Mal frowned. "Such a pity how we don't measure up to your - "

Inara spoke as though she had not heard his defensive bluster. "It's perfect." Her eyes were wide and soft as she took in the long and empty stretch of wind-rippled sand.

"Come again?"

"I've never had a beach all to myself before. It's like we're the only two - it's perfect." Inara picked up the shoes and gazed out at the pounding waves. The wind snuggled her dress against her curves and blew her hair around her face in gentle waves. Her soft-looking little toes curled into the warm sand beneath her.

"There's your hat. I can just - " Mal hurried away.

In a moment, he had returned with the hat and passed it to Inara as she murmured her thanks. She was still watching the surf. "It never stops," she said, in almost a whisper. She brushed a few pale grains of dry sand from the hat's brim.

"Couldn't if it tried." The sun was setting behind them. Mal glanced up at the moon, enormous in the darkening sky. "I want to get the rest of the gear in the boat before Kaylee gets back demanding that cider."

Inara nodded. "I can help you."

They walked back to the fire pit in silence.

"I'm gonna stay out here all night - watch the stars come, watch the moon, see the waves..." Kaylee dropped an empty bottle onto the sand next to her chair, gestured vaguely at the sea. Jayne had rowed her back to the beach, then quickly set out to meet a woman he'd spied going into the trading post.

"Be washed out to sea by morning, Little Kaylee." Mal uncorked a bottle and drank deep. "Besides, it's cloudin' up - might rain."

"The merfolk..." Kaylee giggled. "Meet a nice merboy..." Her eyes were drifting closed.

Inara moved to kneel in front of Kaylee, looked at her closely. "Honey? Did Jayne give you anything in the infirmary?"

"Nooooooo." Another giggle. "But I sure thought about it." Her voice danced into its upper register. "Thought about it all the while he was takin' care of me."

Inara squeezed her friend's hand. "Kaylee - "

"You're so pretty." Kaylee squeezed back, smiled dreamily. "He likes you."

"Did Jayne - " she tried again, a little louder.

Softer now. "Boys without shirts. So _swai_. Did ya see him, 'Nara?"

Inara's voice was a bit more emphatic now. "_Mei mei_. I mean anything for the pain. Medicine?"

"Jus' a little smoother. Jayne's nice...bandaged me right up...so big all over...just got to get that haircut fixed..." Kaylee frowned sleepily for a moment, then relaxed into her chair and said no more.

"And she chased the smoother with this finely fermented berry cider. How many bottles?"

Inara looked at her own bottle, then eyed the sand next to Kaylee's chair. "A few. Will she be okay?"

Mal considered the unconscious girl. "Won't feel too shiny come morning, but she'll live. Reckon I got some conversatin'' to do with Jayne. Little thing like Kaylee, can't dope her up like he does himself."

Inara saw Mal take a few empty bottles to the shore. He bent to rinse them before setting them down carefully in the sand. She gathered Kaylee's bottles and joined him.

Mal nodded at the set of bottles. "We'll leave those on the trading post steps for Bartlett. Shop's closed by now."

She rinsed the bottles and set them behind her, then stood watching the waves pass through stripes of moonlight. "Ever wonder what's out there? Down deep? Beyond what people can see?" Inara took a few steps forward into the waves. Mal watched the cool water, foam-tipped, glide over her toes. It was almost unbearable to look at her. The universe must hate him.

He turned away and shrugged. "Whatever the terraforming crew dropped in there - list on some datapad, I figure."

Inara's voice was wry. "Is there no romance in your imagination?" In a new voice, she continued. "I read about the whales that may live in the deep on some worlds. They...sing."

"Singing whales." Mal flexed an eyebrow. "Opera?"

"Their songs could echo through thousands of miles of water, almost across the entire planet. Swimming alone in the dark water, it was how they found each other."

Mal thought for a moment, picked up a small gray shell and watched it rest in his hand. "Ancient sailors, on Earth-that-Was? On their maps of the sea, uncharted waters, they'd write 'Here Be Dragons.' " He flung the shell into the dark waves.

"Here Be Dragons," she repeated, her eyes on where his shell had fallen. "They knew it was dangerous." Her voice sounded different to him, and he wondered if the cider was stronger than what she was accustomed to drinking.

Surely it was the sea that was mesmerizing him. Or the cider was too strong for him as well. "But they couldn't stay where it was safe. They wanted to know more than what they could see."

Inara folded her arms across herself, rubbed with her hands against a sudden shiver. "They risked everything."

"Some of them died for the wanting of it." He knew just exactly how they felt.

"Lost at sea, far from home." There was a sorrow in her voice.

"Shipwrecked, left with nothing." A ship, a life, smashed to ugly kindling on the indifferent rocks. No matter what Wash thought he saw and knew. Parts and pieces, that's what he'd be, parts and pieces floating and clashing without purpose or design. Used up and useless. Or whole, but empty-handed and alone, no way off a hostile shore, no help ever appearing on the horizon, no way back to a life of his choosing.

From behind them, Kaylee coughed in her sleep. Inara blinked as if waking, then turned to find her friend's sleeping face. She was watching Kaylee, but Mal was still watching the surf, and her, so he saw what she didn't. A rogue wave, foolishly yearning more than any of its brethren for the pulling moon above, rushed foamy and almost silent onto the sand. Just a few feet farther, no danger, but she'd be half-soaked and shivering in her pretty dress.

"'Nara - " He reached, caught her by a wrist, and stepped back.

Then not only was he falling, he'd yanked her comprehensively off-balance as well, no saving either of them. He heard himself yelling, heard the clanking glassy bottles, heard her gasping indrawn breath, reached out with his other hand and prayed not to land on top of her.

Mal hit the sand with a thunk, mercifully avoiding both the lady and the breakable bottles. He had curled in, instinctively, on his way down, so the hand on her wrist and the one that had a purchase on her waist followed along and pulled her right down on top of him. Which is how he came to be sprawled, barely upright enough to be sitting, on the sand, on an empty beach, with Inara jostled breathless on his lap, her body pressed against the length of his chest. Her free arm had circled tightly around his neck during the fall - the other rested between them where he was still holding it. Mal could feel her breath on his cheek, could see the moonlit shadows her eyelashes cast on her face. She could have felt his breath too, he realized, if he hadn't been holding it. Mal exhaled, dared to breathe again. He could smell the sunshine that had been pleased to warm her skin all day.

_Don't move your fingers, don't move that hand soldier, don't look at her mouth, her eyes, her hair, her shoulders, Oh sweet Mother of God, the curve above her knees, where in holy hell did the rest of her dress get to?_

Inara wasn't closing her eyes, was watching him closely, first his eyes and then his mouth. Looking for all the world like a woman who wanted kissing, which meant that the cider definitely had hallucinogenic properties, because in no way could that be the case. She'd made it very clear just a few days ago, how she thought of him.

_Don't think about everything you've been dreaming about for weeks, this is a mistake of truly colossal proportions._

There was no power in him to lift her away and out of his arms. He might be dying.

"Mal?" In a whisper.

Not dying. This onslaught, feeling her everywhere, he was overwhelmed, the enchantment of her voice, her hand now resting so lightly on his shoulder, and the continuing press of her legs across his lap, it would take just a moment to put both hands around her waist, pull her closer, bring her knees to either side...

"Bwaaaaah!" And Inara was not quite flying through the air. Mal told himself he hadn't really thrown her, he'd just - ah, _ta ma de_, he'd thrown her. He counted himself lucky she was uncanny graceful, and landed on her feet. Mal scrambled to a standing position, strangely out of breath, and pulled his jacket tight. She must know the state of him - how could she not? He had a heart to slow, a body and an imagination to rein in toward something approaching calm.

Mal figured he'd better explain. "There was a wave." Neither of them moved.

"Oh." Inara's voice was fragile, little more than an exhalation. There was enough moon to see that she was flushed pink on her cheeks, and trembling. Mal wondered why she had any business shivering - the heat of her against him still scalded him everywhere they had touched. But he didn't want to let her freeze on top of everything else he'd done - he shrugged out of his coat, crossed the space between them and laid it over her shoulders. Inara met his eyes, then looked quickly down at the brown leather wrapping itself around her. She ran a hand slowly down the length of the coat and looked back at Mal, a question in her eyes.

"I had a plan."

So the plan was, he'd pull her safe as he stepped back neatly onto dry sand. _Easy peasy_, he had congratulated himself. Good plan, outstanding plan.

Inara nodded her approval of the plan.

"And then the bottles." It might have been his own throat strangling him.

A tiny laugh. "I forgot about them too."

"I didn't think you'd want to get all wet." The filmy dress, soaked through and clinging to the bare, wet skin underneath - yet another thing to add to the list of things not to think about.

"You surprise me so." Her voice was gentle, and the fingers of one hand trailed inquiringly down the length of his coat again. "I'd have bet you'd think that was good for a laugh."

The words were out before he had time to think about them. "Reckon I'm not in a laughing mood."

A pause. Her voice was careful. "You're not?"

Mal headed off the follow-up question he could not answer. "Are you alright? You didn't get hurt when I -"

"Threw me?" There was laughter in her voice, but something else, too - did she sound a little sad?

"No!" Mal protested, moving closer to her. "Well, yeah, but - it's just that the way you were, on my - and the way I had you, with my - " This was not getting easier. " I didn't want you to think I was trying anything - unseemly."

"I didn't think that." Inara's voice was so soft over the waves. "I knew you would never...thank you."

Mal wasn't quite sure what he was being thanked for - following the impulse to pull her out of the wave, or ignoring every other impulse he'd had since then.

"I figure I'll get these bottles in the boat." Mal clustered the narrow tops between the splayed fingers of each hand and crossed the luminous stretch of beach to the edge of the estuary. As he was stacking them carefully behind the seats, he heard Inara approaching, heard the soft clink of the bottles she carried.

"This is the last of them." She passed the few bottles, still crusted with sand, across the boat to Mal.

"No, here are the last." Mal held two dripping bottles out of the water next to the boat. "Shall we sit? Watch the surf?" Inara raised her eyebrows at this, so Mal added, "From a safe distance, of course. Reckon we'll be in the black a long spell after this, better get our fill of earthly delights."

"I think everyone had a lovely day."

"Folks appreciate getting to relax now and then." They stopped just before the tawny smooth sand that indicated high tide. Mal saw Inara begin to ease her arms out of his coat, and stopped her. "You wear that, you were shivering cold just now."

"I wasn't -" Inara was quiet for a few moments. "But you'll have nothing to sit on."

A wry smile. "These trousers are well-acquainted with the sand, you'll have reason to know. Besides," he added, "you look almost as pretty in that coat as I do." Mal took a seat on the sand.

Inara laughed, beaming a moon-bright smile at him. "You are insufferable," but her voice was warm. She settled in next to him, wrapping her arms around her knees, and accepted the bottle he passed to her.

They sat quietly for a while, not near enough to touch, watching the waves below and the clouds above.

Mal stirred a little. "So...clams."

"The clams were good." Inara looked at the man next to her. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Sat on a beach? My first time, think I'm doing well, though."

Mock exasperation. "Have you ever _baked clams_, is what I was referring to. Digging them up and cooking them like you did. Although the sitting? I'm impressed, you seem to have a natural aptitude."

"No, this is the first time. I had a diagram, though. Devout believer in the power of a good diagram." Mal nodded, as if conceding something to himself. "And Wash knew what to do."

"The two of you looked quite industrious in the surf."

"Oh, so you were watching me?"

"Hardly. _I _was busy flying a kite."

"Yes, gliding about holding string. Quite an impressive repetoire you have."

Inara arched one perfect eyebrow slyly. "Oh, so you were watching me?"

_No more than I can help._ Mal waved the accusation away with one hand. "I heard reports."

"I'm sure your crew appreciates what you did for them - the day was very pleasant."

"We can fry up the leftover baked potatoes and onions for breakfast. Some of that juice left, too."  
"That'll be...good."

"Little Kaylee might not think so." Mal considered his mechanic, still sleeping in her folding chair. "You about finished? We should get her back on the boat."

Inara nodded. "I'll carry her chair if you want to lift her out -" the glass clanked softly as she accepted the bottle Mal passed her.

"Heyyyyyy!" Kaylee's inconvincingly threatening voice rose from behind them. "I hear you over there. No messing with our gear. Cap'n's gonna...fix your wagon when he - " the rest of the words were slurred.

"_Now_ she raises the alarm?" Mal was affectionately incredulous.

"We'd better see to her."

--

Inara settled onto one of the boat's wooden seats, scooted to the side, and held her arms out to guide Kaylee down beside her as Mal eased her in. Their mechanic's eyes barely opened, and no sooner had Mal taken up the oars than she slumped over entirely, resting her sleepy head on Inara's lap.

Inara gave Mal a smile over that, and smoothed Kaylee's hair back where it lay across her face and neck. Kaylee stirred a little and muttered what might have been a question.

"Shhh, _mei mei_, we're on our way home." Inara's hair swayed as she bent over her friend.

"I love you, 'Nara."

A low, musical whisper. "I love you too, Kaylee." Inara looked up and saw Mal watching her, and as she turned away, her face seemed a little shy. She trailed a few long fingers in the starry water.

Mal found himself rowing slowly, listening to the nighttime songs of unseen things and watching the ripples his oars made in the water. There were more clouds now, and as they amassed in front of the moon the night was growing darker and darker. But the estuary was narrow, and they were almost to the bog side when he saw Inara look at him, then wonderingly over his shoulders to the left and the right.

"Mal, Mal, oh - look!" Inara closed a hand over the one of his she could reach, gave it a little shaking tug. Her eyes were fixed on the space behind him. The clouds had obscured the moon now, the night was truly dark, and so she could see what she had not seen before.

He let the boat drift into a turn so they both faced the shore, and he saw it too. Fireflies. The whole landscape illuminated with them, countless thousands of them, blinking and shining as they drifted golden in and out of the berry bushes. The fragrance of the pale sweet flowers floated out to them.

"I've never seen anything so magical." Inara's hand, the one that had touched him, rested lightly over her heart. She looked at Mal, then back at the landscape again.

The tightness in Mal's chest was getting painful. "Maybe your friend's new hubby can make one for you." There were people in her world, he had seen, who could command such resources.

"No one could ever touch it - " and he heard her reverence for the wild beauty all around them.

She surprised him. Delicate woman, accustomed to luxury and privilege, and this had brought her near to tears. He remembered what a stranger had told him, days before, about her heart, and thought he might have a glimmer of understanding. And he was proud, in a way he did not want to have to defend, that she was here because of him. That it was he that had brought her here to see what moved her so that her eyes were brimming at the perfection of it.

Someone was talking.

"I said, can ya eat 'em?" Jayne. Standing near the landed boats. Apparently hungry. Mal heard Inara's soft laugh over his own exasperated sigh.

--

Mal convinced Jayne not to eat the fireflies while both men unloaded the gear and bottles from the boat. Inara waited, Kaylee still resting across her lap, for Mal to finish his terse and muttered appraisal of the merc's pharmaceutical skills.

"Aw hell, Mal, you didn't see it. Lotta sand and greeny beach stuff in that cut." The merc glowered down at the crate he was carrying. "She was cryin', Mal."

Mal glowered, but nodded his understanding, and Jayne trundled away toward the outpost.

"Ready?" Mal moved next to Kaylee's side of the boat.

Inara nodded. "I didn't want to chance dropping her on the sand, poor thing." She eased her friend to a sitting position and leaned her into Mal's arms. Inara watched him lift Kaylee against his chest, a fond smile on his face. She stepped from the boat and walked by his side through the dark to _Serenity_.

"Are Zoe and Wash back yet?"

Mal shook his head. "Don't expect them 'til morning."

He paused in the cargo bay, considering his mechanic. "No way she can navigate that ladder to her bunk. She's got a hammock in the engine room." Mal frowned. "I'll just - "

"Come to my shuttle." _Oh, how that must have sounded!_ At his carefully blank look, she explained. "With Kaylee. She should stay with me, I'll make sure she's alright."

"You don't need to do that."  
"_You_ don't need to sit up against a bulkhead in the engine room all night, making sure she doesn't get sick. My bed's big enough for the two of us." She felt a blush sting its way across her face. "For Kaylee and me, I meant." She hastened her steps toward her shuttle, making space between them just in case her brain was formulating even more appalling things for her to say.

As she climbed the stairs to her shuttle, Inara reflected that she both wanted and did not want time alone to think about everything that had happened today. The ungodly sexiness of him, shirtless and moving with working grace through the surf; the curious words between them at the water's edge; and most of all, the troublingly addictive pleasure of having him pressed against her for that moment on the sand.

She was the perfect guardian for Kaylee tonight - despite a long day in the sun, despite the cider still warming her behind her eyes, she was unlikely to be sleeping any time soon. This completely unfamiliar frustration was shaking her, badly - in a calmer mood she would have found her predicament laughable. She'd made a career of fulfillment and pleasure. She'd bedded, as a matter of course, any man for whom she'd ever felt the slightest desire. But this man...Inara realized she had too many thoughts about him that ended _but_ _this man_, too many questions that defied elucidation.

Beyond this, beyond the wanting that pulled her as tight as the string on a bow, she found herself with foolishly protective impulses toward him. That is, when she didn't want to smack him silly. His voice in the dark on the beach, something about it had reminded her that his home world was lost and gone. That there was no patch of ground, on any of the worlds left turning, that he could claim. It made her wish for the power to gentle away the sorrow in him. Ridiculous, the impulse to protect a man who came to breakfast wearing a gun more often than not. She knew he would not thank her for her concern.

"It's a kindness, you taking care of Kaylee tonight. You're a good friend to her." Mal entered the shuttle behind her, still holding Kaylee, and crossed to the narrow red couch. He sank down, resting his mechanic against his chest.

"She's very dear." Inara wet a small towel slightly and crossed to her friend, kneeling to wipe Kaylee's face and hands with gentle strokes. Kaylee sighed contentedly and murmured something neither of them caught.

Mal watched her. "You've done this before."

A nod as she rose. "We were responsible for helping with the younger girls in the Training House."

"Training House awash with little drunk girls?" He wasn't even trying not to smile.

Inara couldn't help laughing. "Only on special occasions." She laughed again, but felt compelled to clarify. "Little girls get sick sometimes, or just - homesick." She brushed a lock of Kaylee's hair out of her eyes. "It feels good to be a comfort." Artless words that touched the heart of what Inara loved about being a Companion. And she would not deceive herself - there had been a fragile offer in those words, for one who cared to hear it. It was all her pride would allow.  
"Bed's ready?" His voice was soft, but all business. _Better this way_, Inara thought.

"I've turned down the right side so she can - yes."

Mal rose and followed her, Kaylee still tucked against him, until they reached the bed. He lay her on her side while Inara set a glass of cool water on the nightstand and arranged the bedclothes carefully around the injured foot.

"They grow up so fast." Mal smiled to himself and squeezed Kaylee's hand. He said it as a joke, Inara knew, but she found herself touched by Mal's unalloyed affection for his mechanic.

He turned to go - Inara followed him without really knowing why. _Hoping for a kiss?_ was the sardonic question she would ask herself, much later.

"Oh, your coat!" Inara retrieved it from where she had laid it neatly on the couch. "Thank you."

Mal folded the coat over his arm. "Don't mention it."

"She'll need a crutch for a few days." Inara glanced over her shoulder at Kaylee.

Mal considered this. "Might could have something at the outpost."

"I suppose we'll see in the morning."

He turned to face her, and the look in his eyes was speculative. "Guess we will at that." With a nod, he was gone.

_bi zui_ - shut up  
_kuh-ooh duh lao bao jurn - _horrible old tyrant  
_mei mei_ - little sister  
_swai_ - handsome  
_ta ma de_ - fk


	6. Orphan Train

Woohoo!" The voice resounded from deep in the pillow next to Inara. "I'm sleeping with a bona fide Companion!" Kaylee's merry giggles shook the bed as she scooted into a sitting position, pushing her tawny hair back from her face.

"Good morning, Sunshine," replied Inara, smiling indulgently as she sat up. "You're in rather a better mood than I had hoped."

"Drank up most of that pitcher of water you brought me in the night." Kaylee informed her friend. "Gotta know what to do after a night of fun."

"Very wise."

"So, did you?" Kaylee's eyebrows rose expectantly. "Have any fun? I remember the first part of the night being real nice, but then things get hazy..."

Inara felt herself blushing, and felt unwontedly glad her hair was sleep-tangled in an erratic halo around her face. Trust her mei mei to cut right to the most loaded question. "The beach was lovely."

Kaylee snorted. "Big pile of wet sand. You know that ain't what I'm talking about, Inara. And I ain't talkin' about the clams, the potatoes, the cider, high tide, low tide, or the ring around the moon! How'd things go with you and the Captain?"

Inara wasn't ready to answer, even after a largely sleepless night of asking herself the very same thing. "We didn't fight - no yelling or name-calling," she finally supplied.

This news was enough to have Kaylee wiggle delightedly against the pillow at her back. Her eyes danced. "Well, gotta start somewhere."

Inara smoothed out the blanket that lay over her legs. "He was astonishingly civil, even pleasant, all day. Perhaps the sea air improves his disposition."

When Inara looked up, her friend was considering her intently, stretching her mind toward...something.

"I remember you in the boat." Kaylee's look became knowing, triumphant. "You were wearing the Captain's coat!"

Inara shook her head to discourage this line of speculation. "He offered it to me - quite a gallant gesture, and in the spirit of the offer, I couldn't refuse."

"Were ya cold? I don't remember bein' cold."

"No, but he thought I was."

"Now it's gonna have your perfume on it, all girly." Kaylee's eyes danced with her laughter, and she nudged her friend with her toes under the blanket they shared.

"As if the Captain would stand for that." Inara shook her head, smiling. "He took very good care of you last night, mei mei. He carried you from the boat all the way up here -" She reached for a brush and began to smooth her hair.

"I remember that, bits and pieces. He smells nice, 'Nara."

Inara thought she was not ready to share just how well she could confirm Kaylee's opinion. "And, Jayne got quite the scathing lecture for giving you a smoother when he knew you'd be drinking." She crossed the room to a small sink, which she began to fill with water.

Kaylee sighed. "Poor Jayne. He was such a mess in the infirmary. I started cryin'," she rolled her eyes at her own frailty, "and he didn't know what to do with himself. Looked like he wanted to yell me out of it, or just turn tail and run. I was tryin' not to," she continued, "but it hurt pretty bad and I was just so disappointed to leave the party."

"He's interested in you, my dear." Inara leaned over the basin and gently splashed warm water on her face. She reached for a small blue pot of minty-smelling cleanser and smoothed it over her face, splashing again to rinse clean. "He made that very clear on the beach." Inara patted her face dry with a soft red towel, then picked up a clean washcloth and dampened it. Returning to the bed, she passed it, and the cleanser, to Kaylee.

"Thanks." Kaylee wiped her face. A pause. "I can't say I mind all them muscles. And he was real nice in the infirmary. I know he was tryin' to be gentle." She handed the damp cloth to her friend. "You take such good care of me."

"Well, it saves you from having to stand on one leg to wash your face." Inara took the washcloth and rinsed it.

Kaylee grimaced, her face shiny with cleanser. "I'm going to be doin' a lot of that, next few days. I can't take care of Serenity sittin' in this bed." She accepted the washcloth and a fresh towel.

"Mal said we'd look at the outpost for something you can use as a crutch. I think we're heading over right after breakfast." Inara passed her friend the hairbrush. "You have beautiful skin."

Kaylee scowled as she smoothed her bangs. "Freckles."

Inara's eyes widened in surprise. "They're adorable. They suit you perfectly. And I know many women who'd pay quite a lot for a complexion like yours."

"Pay?"

"Dermatological treatments. They're effective, but rather expensive and time-consuming."

"Never imagined goin' to a doctor just to look cute," Kaylee mused to herself. "'Nara? Can I ask you a favor?"

"Certainly."

Kaylee eyed her wrinkled clothes. "Would you mind awful much fetching me a clean outfit from my bunk? I know I'm gettin' a ration of teasing at breakfast, and it won't help matters if I show up smelling like something's been carried in on the tide."

"Of course." Inara eased a lightweight pink robe over her long nightgown. She never wore this particular set with clients - it was a less than perfect match for the color scheme of her shuttle - but she loved it. She stopped at the mirror to smooth on a gilding of lip color, brushed quickly through her hair, and started out the door. Her pace was quick, so she was only barely able to stop herself before colliding with the man in front of her.

"Jayne." Inara looked up at the merc, standing right outside her shuttle door, arms folded across his broad chest. Something about his stoic expression made her wonder how long he'd been there. "Good morning. Are you -"

Jayne interrupted. "Wanted to make sure Kaylee ain't still all...sleepified. She wake up okay?"

Inara was surprised at the level of his concern. "She's just fine. I'm going to retrieve some fresh clothes for her. We'll be down to breakfast in a few minutes."

A nod. "Well...good." Jayne stepped aside to let Inara pass him as they both made their way down the stairs. "Hey, I-nara!" he said, and the fresh urgency in his voice stopped her.

Inara turned and waited for Jayne to close the few steps between them. The expression on his fierce, chiseled face was unusually intense, and Inara wondered, since Jayne knew Kaylee was well, what could concern him so. "Yes?" she asked.

"Last night, or this morning," he began, "when you were with Kaylee..." Jayne paused.

Oh, he'd like to know if she's confided in me, Inara thought. She smiled gently and nodded to encourage him to finish the question.

"Did ya see her without no top on?" Now it was Jayne's turn to smile, although not gently, and nod avidly to encourage Inara. The merest glance of what his hands were doing, in front of his own chest, was nearly unbearable.

When she left without a word, Inara noticed he didn't look surprised.

Inara was still shaking her head at the memory when she saw the Captain climbing the ladder from his bunk into the hall. Already dressed for the day, clean-shaven as always, his hair very slightly wet - Inara found herself wondering how early he woke in the morning. An image surfaced in her mind of this man standing in front of a basin of water, a towel low, low around his hips, shaving...Inara shook herself out of her reverie. The day before, on the beach, she'd reined in her impulse to watch him. Had only allowed herself a few glances. From her earliest school days, Inara's teachers had complimented her artist's eye for detail. At the moment, it was more trouble than help.

"Good morning." The warmth of her own voice surprised her, though not as much as the glow widening through her at the sight of him.

"Mornin.'" His mouth tilted into a half-smile as he turned toward her. "How's my girl this morning?"

"I - " Kaylee. "Surprisingly well - she asked me to get her some clean clothes for breakfast."

Mal was already reaching for the hatch. "Let me get that for you -"

"Oh, it's no - thank you."

He settled his belt around his hips, put his hands in his pockets. "We'll be heading to the outpost directly after breakfast - taking the mule so Kaylee can ride along easy - if you'd like to come as well."

"That would be nice." Inara paused with one hand on the ladder to Kaylee's bunk. "I had a lovely time yesterday. I'm glad I returned in time to join you."

Mal watched her without answering. The pause, the silence between them opened, ticked, stretched, gathered, bloomed. As if on some secret cue, Inara found herself nodding at him in precisely the awkward, distracted way he was nodding at her. She started down the ladder while he retreated along the hall.

--

What was all that about? Mal asked himself as he made his way to the galley to start a pot of coffee. Good to see Inara seemed to bear no grudge against him for the whole throwing episode. She'd been pleasant last night; and then this morning, standing fresh-faced and smiling in her pink nightgown and paying him a compliment. Well, not a compliment compliment; a pleasantry. Two pleasantries. Two ways of saying the same thing. Does that count as two pleasantries? He scowled at himself for the mental dithering. Doesn't mean a damn thing. Just a bit of peace on the boat.

Mal filled the coffee pot, intending to devote himself to the making of breakfast, but found that remembrances persisted in intruding themselves on his morning. The way her voice had sounded by the waves, gentle and maybe sad; how she was in the boat, so tender with Kaylee and so nearly overcome by the night; and just exactly what she did, and didn't do, that moment between them on the sand. He remembered her arm curled tight around his neck. That had to have been pure instinct; he had, after all, been pulling her all topsy-turvy. But in the after, in the scanty chaotic heartbeat's time between the landing, and the, well, the throwing - he traveled back to remember, and notice, that Inara hadn't pushed away. She'd moved her arm just enough to rest her palm on his chest, her gentle fingertips curling along his shoulder; he could almost feel her touch there now. She'd rested herself there, her expression a puzzle still, snug against him and on his lap without seeming to mind, until he - well. Maybe it was attributable to some kind of refined Companion etiquette - maybe she'd studied and practiced at that school, for precisely this eventuality. The Care and Feeding of Lust-Addled Yokels, by Priscilla Fancypants.

He resolved again to set these thoughts aside, and made another decision. "Wash!" Mal barked into the comm system, not quite shouting. "It's your gorram turn at breakfast duty!" He'd heard his pilot and first mate return to the ship just before dawn. Mal assigned to Wash's account at least half the blame for his current turmoiling mind She likes you. She watches you. The man had far and away too much optimism, thanks to his recent mind-boggling and uncanny success with Zoe, for anyone to pay him any mind whatsoever. No, Mal decided again, Wash was not the man who ought to be calculating Mal's odds of romantic success with any woman.

--

The fried potatoes that Wash, yawning hugely and still quite sandbattered, had made them were devoured quickly. Kaylee surveyed the table with satisfaction; she felt almost as good as she was pretending to feel, well enough to thwart the Captain's teasing remarks about her behavior the night before. She was relieved that he could joke about it - Kaylee didn't want Jayne to catch hell for giving her that smoother. She looked at the new gun hand, currently prowling the kitchen for scraps. The size of him, he could probably take three times her dose, chase it with a barrel of beer, and scarcely feel the effect.

Zoe and Inara cleared the table and quickly washed and stowed the breakfast dishes. Kaylee saw Inara glance at something on Zoe's back, then hesitate a moment. She leaned close and spoke in a low voice to Zoe - Kaylee couldn't hear what she said - but Zoe smiled, put down the threadbare green towel she'd been using, and reached back to free a small strand of dried sea grass from her long brown curls. Another smile while Zoe slowly leaned and let her hip rest negligently against the galley's counter. Her eyes found her husband, who'd been watching the entire exchange. Kaylee expected that - Wash hadn't ever been able to keep his eyes off Zoe, not from the first day Kaylee'd met him. What she hadn't expected to see was the cautious, almost puzzled expression on Inara's face as her eyes traveled from Zoe to Wash.

After a repressive nod from Mal, Jayne carried Kaylee into the cargo bay and settled her on the mule. He set off with Wash and Zoe to walk to the outpost for some last-minute shopping. Mal joined her a moment later, surveying the cargo bay and the stairs.

He settled into the driver's seat, tapped the wheel with the fingers of one hand. "Where's Inara?"

"Said she'd be right along. Getting a shawl."

"We ain't got all morning." Mal fiddled with some dials on the mule's dashboard.

"Be nice. She said some real sweet things about you this morning - called you gallant."

"You sure that cider's all worn off, Little Kaylee?" Mal continued to glance around the cargo deck, everywhere, Kaylee noticed, but at her.

She patted his hand fondly, then squeezed. "Didn't surprise me none." She tugged on the hand she still held, waited to catch his eye. "Anyone lives with you for a time knows the kind of man you are. Knows your heart." She watched her Captain drop his eyes to their joined hands. Kaylee thought he might say something - watched him start, then shake his head, eyes closed now.

"I'm coming," Inara called as she skimmed down the stairs, the fringe of her shawl dancing in her wake.

As she crossed the cargo bay to where they were, Inara unfolded something she'd held across one arm - another shawl. She held it out to Kaylee. "I see it's foggy this morning, didn't know if you might need this."

Kayleee accepted with a grin. "Thank you." She arranged the shawl around her shoulders, looked down at the effect. "Don't I look spiffy!"

"Spiffy indeed." Inara beamed at her friend from her place in the back seat of the mule.

"Are we all sufficiently glamorous to embark, ladies?" Mal's voice held the familiar, you're-trying-my-patience tone.

"We make you look good, Captain. Two fine ladies on your arm."

"Let's get you some crutches, see what else old Bartlett might want to trade for." Kaylee had to hold on, balancing her body away from her injured left foot, as Mal sped the mule down the ramp and along the rough and sticky path toward the outpost.

--

Even before they reached the outpost, Mal was surprised at the number of people making their way, on foot, by cart, or on horseback, along the road that led to the outpost. He parked the mule near where Zoe, Wash, and Jayne were waiting. "Bartlett must do a better business than he let on," he remarked.

Zoe explained. "Ain't here for Bartlett, sir. Train's coming."

She didn't seem concerned, but Mal wanted to be sure. He stepped out of the mule and stood close to her. "Bartlett told me it weren't cargo. Like to be trouble?" He could hear a faint metallic scraping that now registered as a train approaching, slowing for its eventual stop at the depot.

"Only the kind needs its face washed and its nappies changed. It's an orphan train." Jayne's gaze swept the small crowd that was beginning to gather, not at the outpost, but at the train depot across the road.

Mal looked more closely - he could see people in the crowd making their way to the few wooden steps to the train platform, bearing wooden crates or rough brown sacks. Already, a substantial number of crates were stacked neatly at one end of the platform. Provisions, he knew, that would help feed the train's passengers on the next leg of their journey - those that were to continue.

"Hope there's folks here come to give 'em a good home." Mal didn't need to look at Kaylee to see the sober frown on her face.

"I don't understand. The train is full of orphaned children?" Inara's words came slowly in her disbelief.

Wash explained. "Not all are orphans, technically. Some come from families too poor to provide for them. Parents might have taken sick, lost their jobs..."

"Some are street kids, got bored and let the nuns round 'em up." Jayne ran his tongue over his teeth. "Lookin' for new...territory."

Kaylee scanned the crowd. "Farm families out here can always use an extra hand - foster kids live right along in the house sometimes."

"Sometimes? Where else would an adopted child - " Inara sounded more puzzled than before.

Zoe's voice was resolute. "Sometimes it don't work so good. Train can be a real blessing for a family wanting a little one to call their own. Most times the older kids get a chance to get some schooling, learn a trade." She paused. "But there are them that would take advantage."

Inara's face showed her struggle with the idea. "People can simply come and take children off the train, as if they were no more than so many -?"

The train in question had slowed nearly to a stop, and gave a whistle loud enough to drown out the last few words of Inara's question.

"Folks in town see who comes to the depot. They'll help the matrons steer clear of those with the worst intentions."

A woman stepped onto the platform, each hand grasping the hand of a tiny child. A line of children, all ages and dressed in faded but clean clothing, filed out behind her and arranged themselves in a line on the wooden planks. The young children all folded their hands in front of them; most looked politely at the gathered crowd, but several of the smallest were whimpering softly. A few of the men from town spoke a quick greeting to the matron, then began loading crates and bags onto the first car.

"Gonna see what Bartlett can sell us for the - try and scare up that crutch for Kaylee as well." Mal turned toward the outpost. He'd heard Inara's questions, of course. The astonishment and dismay in her voice had registered as clearly as if she'd painted a sign and slapped it on the side of his boat. It didn't surprise him - he knew she wasn't accustomed to the kind of life these people considered ordinary.

"Let me come too, Cap'n? He'll give me a better deal." Kaylee wiggled her injured foot, stuck her bottom lip out with mischievous theatricality.

"I'm sure that's true." Mal looked dubiously at the mud and dust that made up the road, then at Kaylee's bandaged foot. He smiled as he offered his back to Kaylee with a quick few pats, smiled more as she settled against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, braced her knees just above his hip bones for a ride to the outpost.

"Comin' with us, 'Nara?" The Companion only nodded, but stepped down from the mule and followed along behind them. She was clearly still lost in thought, Mal saw. Quite a change from her prosperous, settled world. He reasoned that it wouldn't trouble her for too long, once she got herself occupied with her business again.

There were few people in Bartlett's outpost, so Mal sat Kaylee on the front counter. Bartlett's grin at seeing the mechanic evaporated as he drew close and noticed her injury. He squinted down at her foot. "What happened?"

"Foolin' around on the beach. Never could keep still." Kaylee shrugged, shaking her head a little as she smiled at the older man. "Got anything I can use for a crutch?"

Bartlett considered the question for a moment. "Might do. Let me check below." He limped off toward the stairs at the back of the store.

Kaylee looked out the window at the train, swung her uninjured foot back and forth along the counter. "Can't be easy, riding from town to town, waiting for someone to take you in."

Mal had noticed Inara gliding distractedly through the store, touching cans and boxes seemingly at random. Now he saw her look up and listen intently to Kaylee's words. Inara opened her mouth as if to reply, then press her lips together with a troubled sigh. She looked around intently, then crossed quickly to him.

"Did you see the nice hats? You like hats," Mal joked, indicating a stack of mud-colored canvas hats on a nearby shelf.

"I'd like to contribute as well." Inara indicated the dry goods Mal had been accumulating on the counter next to Kaylee. Her expression was serious, even a bit anxious, he thought. Mal accepted the coins she passed into his hand with a nod.

Bartlett's footsteps advanced up the stairs. As he came into view, he held up a tarnished but sturdy-looking crutch, its top padded with layers of faded homespun. At his approach, Kaylee hopped down from the countertop, being careful to land on her right foot. Bartlett's gaze passed from the mechanic to the crutch several times, and he nodded as if convincing himself of its suitability.

"Friend of mine made use of this for a little while after the War." Bartlett passed the crutch to Kaylee, who put it under her left arm and leaned her weight on it tentatively. "Now I'm glad I kept it."

"Much obliged." Mal stepped forward to shake hands with the man. "What do I owe you?"

Bartlett spared Mal a polite smile, but addressed his answer to Kaylee. "Keep it. Just promise me, you ever get tired of spacerunnin', you come see old Bartlett. Mechanic like you - whole coast ain't got one - draw business...and pretty, to boot."

"Thank you kindly. Hope we see you again 'fore too long." Kaylee hopped toward the door where Inara waited.

Bartlett turned shrewd eyes to Mal. "Like to have more goods for me? I got customers if you do."

"Maybe so. I will surely be in touch if that's the case." The two men bargained for a few moments over the price of more bottles of cider and the substantial quantity of pantry goods, then Mal shouldered a splintery wooden crate and started back to the mule.

Kaylee had a speculative eye on the group of children on the platform. "I wasn't much older than some of them when I started apprenticing at my dad's shop." She turned to her Captain. "Maybe we could - maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea - "

"Maybe it'd be a terrible idea." Mal frowned at Kaylee as he stowed the crate. "Barely make enough to get by, some weeks."

"Oh, that ain't so." She broke away from Mal's challenging look. "Well, we could figure something out. Besides, the young one's don't hardly - "

"This ain't like getting a puppy, Little Kaylee. And you can't get a puppy, either," Mal muttered. His voice grew lower, and he studied the dust on the toes of his boots. "I don't conjure that matron's in the habit of turning her young charges over to crooks like me." He laughed humorlessly, kicked at a rock near the mule's door. "I'm the last man in a position to be anyone's Daddy."

--

Inara had watched the matron stand on the platform and conduct what she supposed was a brief interview with each person here to...select a child. She had seen wrinkled papers, identification she supposed, offered and examined. She had noticed some of the older girls trying with mixed success to remind the younger ones to behave sedately. A toddler, round-limbed, fussy, and outrageously loud, danced a tantrum at the feet of one girl; hands up; HOLD ME! Near the other end of the line, a lanky boy squinted around him despite the heavy fog. He'd put a practiced hand out each time he moved, Inara saw.

A handful of older boys, some taller than the matron, had drifted from the line and were lounging indolently against the wooden posts of the platform's sun port, hands deep in their pockets, eyeing the crowd. They were muttering back and forth to each other, occasionally snickering, keeping a close eye on their chaperone. Inara saw and felt the eyes of one flicker over her; saw him catch his comrade's attention and indicate her with a jerk of his angular head. The comrade made some comment Inara was grateful not to hear - then the second youth nodded his head, directing the group's attention, but not to Inara. She looked discreetly to her left - Jayne was there, arms folded, much as he had been earlier that morning. No humor in his expression now; he barely seemed to blink, kept his eyes on the boys while he cleared his throat.

"Givin' em my Big Scary Man stance. Think they noticed?"

Her eyes were wary on the big merc. "Surely they're only children passing the time - "

"You believe that?" Jayne's eyes had not moved to her.

Inara pressed her lips together, frowned. "No."

"Good." Jayne pitched his voice slightly louder. "Mal?"

Mal paused in his conversation with Zoe and Wash. "You can't have a puppy either, Jayne."

Jayne snorted. "See the spring crop of thugs takin' their ease over yonder?"

"So noted." Mal and Zoe shared a look. Zoe retrieved the wooden crate, minus the berry cider, and walked with it to the platform. She set it down after accepting a nod and a smile from the matron, then retraced her steps to the mule.

Inara had noticed the wary looks passing between some of the older girls, saw how careful they were to position themselves as far as possible from the clutch of boys. She could not contain her dismay. "It's plain to everyone what these young men are about - and yet they're on a train, virtually unsupervised, with children and young girls?"

Mal's voice was steady, but Inara could hear the tension humming through it. "Boys know if they cross the line, there'll be a reckoning from the townsfolk at the next station." He seated himself at the wheel of the mule. "Past time we headed back to Serenity."

Wash and Inara took seats in the back of the mule, and Mal drove away with a nod to Zoe and Jayne. No one spoke on the short drive back to the ship.

Inara left the mule quickly with a distracted smile to Kaylee. Hurrying to her shuttle, she crossed to her altar, lit some incense and began a badly needed calming meditation. Her mind was clouded with sorrow and shock over what she'd seen, and she needed to think about how to proceed. She concentrated on her breathing, on the sounds of the ancient prayer and after long minutes felt herself regain some tranquility. As more time passed, an idea began to form in her mind. Inara sent three short Cortex messages and was heating water for tea when she felt a presence behind her.

"Captain." Inara finished her preparations for tea.

"We'll be leaving atmo soon - just wanted to let you know."

She could hear the clinking of whatever it was he was playing with, but made herself turn around slowly and serenely. He could have used the comm for that message - there must be another reason for his visit. There was sudden warmth throughout her - Inara felt it when she blinked her eyes, felt it to her fingers and toes.

"Thank you - I'd like to speak to you, if you have a moment."

The clinking stopped, and Mal looked guiltily at whatever was in his hand. "Sure," he answered, resting the figurines on the dresser's carved top and crossing to her couch. He sat, looked up at her expectantly. "Shoot."

"This morning - the children on the train - I did not know that life on these planets..." Inara heard herself trailing off. Of course, she had read about hardships on the Rim worlds, about economic instability and the troubles of recent settlers. That knowledge hadn't prepared her for what she saw.

"It ain't easy in the best of times." Mal's gaze was even, sober as he met her eyes. "We all do what we can though."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'd like to hire you." Seeing his puzzled look, she clarified. "For the children."

"Darlin', that's a kind-hearted sentiment, but even with you chippin' in, Serenity ain't the right place to raise youngsters. Or puppies neither," he added with a half-smile.

Darling. "That's not what I had in mind." Inara went on, encouraged by his calm curiosity. "I have sent some messages to contacts I am certain would help us financially. There are schools, on my world, that care for children in unfortunate circumstances. I - we could pay you to transport some children there. It would be several days' journey, but you have room in the passenger dorms, and I would assume responsibility for attending to the children while - "

"Can't." His brusque interruption startled Inara.

"I have some experience with children, and I'm confident I could ensure they wouldn't be any trouble - I could gather the necessary -"

"Ain't gonna happen," he replied, in a lower voice.

"We could help some -" Inara began.

"Sending children off-world." Mal's eyes narrowed. "This ain't one of the Central Planets. Folks here don't expect their governments to warehouse their children for 'em. Certainly not on some far-away planet among folk no one here's ever seen." He stood and shook his head tersely, as much in warning as in dismissal.

Inara was incredulous. "Warehouse? No - I'm talking about a home, where the children might be safe, and schooled, and fed with more than what strangers drop off as it suits them!" Inara thought of the little boy, standing alone and squinting to make sense of a world he could not see. "Where they'd have medical attention! Be cared for by professionals who understand - "

"Why don't you speak it plainly, Miz Serra." His voice was scathing, scornful. Inara remembered a question, an answer on the beach the night before, and part of her marveled in sorrow that both voices belonged to the same man. "Ignorant Rim folk keep breedin', havin' children they can't care for, then ship 'em away on a train."

"That's not what I said. That's not what I mean. You'd like it to be that simple," Inara hissed, suddenly furious at him, refusing to be cowed. She advanced on him until she had to tilt her head up to glare properly. "It's one thing for adults to decide they don't want government interference in their own lives. Quite another to fight for your precious independence, then ignore how little it offers for the people who aren't big, strong -."

"My precious independence?" She'd never seen his eyes so ablaze with fury. Mal looked like a different man altogether. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. "Shouldn't have been something I ever had to fight for." He growled, inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nose, fighting to master his anger. "Were the Alliance not so eager to lay claim to all the resources on our worlds, I'd still have a home. Maybe a family of my own. A way to lend a hand to those as might need it, instead of - "

The sorrow of this truth seemed to weigh them both down for a moment. Then Mal continued, more enraged than ever. "But come they did, lookin' down on our ways same as you, just now, deciding they can do better. No need to let folk govern and decide for themselves, the Alliance knows better." He fairly spat the last word at her.

"How long shall they wait, Mal?" Inara knew she was losing control; she could hear it in the rising of her own voice. It didn't seem to matter. "How many children - some were no more than babies - how many would you send on that train while the adults cast around for a way to do better? This isn't about politics, and it's not about the War. It's about what you said - giving what we can."

He turned half away, waving one hand to forestall whatever else she might say. "You mentioned contacts. By that, you mean clients?"

Inara telegraphed a brief, stiff nod.

Mal's face was a mockery of his true smile. "That'd be a matter of some delicacy, explaining to the little tykes what exactly you do to secure all this largesse on their behalf."

She ignored the insult. "And you'd rather those children be at the mercy of whomever might get past the train matron? Pimps? Slavers?"

"It may come as a surprise to you that people around here have strategies for dealing with that sort." Though his voice was quiet now, Mal was unmistakeably irate. "Rim folk are maybe not as dim as you suppose. And they take care of their own."

Inara could hear the train whistle again, signalling its departure from the station. The thought of the children, standing on train platforms day after day for a family that didn't come, spurred her on. She made her voice conciliatory. "I know my idea isn't perfect - but can't you admit that the opportunities - "

"As opposed to the opportunities on your world? It warms the heart, your folk might seek out the sweetest -" Mal's voice darkened with bitterness and something else that stilled Inara's objections and held her in place. "Just like you imagined an angel should be, maybe, like a girl from a fairy tale, so beautiful, graceful, loving, and smart, too - and if she's really lucky? School her up to be a whore."

He would not see her cry. Not in her anger, not in her sorrow, not in bitter dismay over the foolish, barely articulated hope she'd entertained only yesterday. Only an hour ago. He probably thought the Guild taught her to cry on cue, a feminine manipulation; the truth was, she'd never been so grateful for learning how to control her tears.

"I can see that our philosophies on this issue are far from congruent." Inara gave an elegant shrug as she made her voice disinterested, academic. She realized that attempting to order the Captain out of her shuttle would only precipitate a standoff, and she was desperate to be away from him. "As you said, we're leaving the atmosphere soon. Thank you your time, but I don't want to keep you." Her smile was placid, her expression as impersonal as his was suspicious. "Is there anything else you require?" Inara knew the answer would be no - what would Mal ever need from her?

Mal was suddenly silent, watching her very intently - Inara nodded, still smiling blandly as if to encourage any request he might have. He muttered something about their flight plan, and left.

Inara remained still for a long moment, scarcely breathing. With a brief glance at the open shuttle door, she crossed to the dresser next to her bed. She opened the top drawer and reached in among the colorful folds of silk. When she withdrew her hand, it held something tiny, smooth, and grey. Inara laid the shell in the middle of her palm for the briefest moment. Then she crossed her shuttle, tilted her hand, and watched, expressionless, as the shell dropped into the small receptacle she used for garbage.

--

"I'll have Wash send you our estimated arrival time on Persephone as soon as he has it." Mal exchanged curt nods with Inara, then left the shuttle, needing a quiet place to curse against the defeat that washed over him.

He'd known foster children before - not the easiest lot in life for a youngster, but there were worse. Among the hands on his Momma's ranch on Shadow, there had been several she'd taken to foster before they came of age. Saw to it that they attended to their studies in the evenings, went to services of the Sabbath. Secured appointments for them when the itinerant doctors were within a day's ride. Lectured, listened, knew when not to make a fuss if one called her Momma. Mal had eavesdropped on a few conversations with the local marshal, when a boy arrived from another foster home, bruised and sullen and stinking. A number had been, to Mal's boyish eyes, oddly spindly for teenagers, fuzzy all over, no heavier than himself. As an adult, he realized what he'd noticed was severe malnutrition - starvation, not to put too fine a point on it. His Momma saw to that as well, took care not to overburden the weakest boys with strenuous chores; gave them enough work to grow their muscles and safeguard their pride; fed them up at mealtimes and dealt firmly but discreetly with the inevitable food-hoarding. The boys grew up knowing they had a job and a home on the Reynolds' ranch, should they want it, and many did. Some determined to retrace, as men, the journeys they'd taken as boys and seek out any kin that might have survived. Mal had grown up proud of his Momma for helping those less fortunate, as Scripture said was proper. He'd always expected to do the same, when he was a man and his turn came.

Now there was no ranch, no Shadow, no Momma. Malcolm Reynolds was head of no family, had nothing to offer to those so obviously in need. Most days he didn't dwell on all the no's in his life; self-pity didn't fuel a boat or feed a crew. Little Kaylee's innocent request he could tolerate; she knew this life, or something close enough; she understood doing what a body could, making the best of precious little.

But Inara...just like the Alliance, so quick to look at the border worlds and be certain she knew what the problem was. So ready to jump in with a solution that included Alliance control over young lives, and the coin of men rich enough to indulge their lust for her, for a worthy cause.

Mal reached for the anger that had blown him open in the shuttle, but found he was too tired, although it was early in the day, to rouse it. Tired, defeated, and plagued with a nagging sense of disgust at himself. Just yesterday, only this morning, he had - there had been conversation. A moment's touch, accidental, surely, but it hadn't precipitated Hell freezing over. A pleasantry or two. It was more than he'd ever had of her, and it was nowhere near enough. He hadn't hoped, exactly. Hadn't expected - he damn sure wasn't naming it, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts.

It didn't escape his notice, now, that Inara herself stood to gain nothing from her wrongheaded, interfering, presumptuous plan. She'd wanted to make a job for him - and he knew he wasn't the only man with a ship she could call on. She had offered to set aside her livelihood, for days at a time, to tend to the children of strangers. Mal gave a bitter smile at the image in his mind - Inara, dressed in all her alluring finery, dandling that fat, grimy, tyrannical baby on her hip. A better man might have acknowledged her intent, might have refused but made it clear he understood she was trying to help in the only way she knew. Might have expressed some admiration for her refusal to overlook the wretchedness she saw. Well, there was abundant evidence that he was no one's idea of a better man, and Mal doubted Inara would have any pleasantries - or anything else - to share with him anytime soon.

--

Lunch had been an as-you-can proposition, with everyone attending to miscellaneous duties around the ship and browsing the less-stale protein that had come from Bartlett's outpost. But when everyone convened for dinner, it took only a moment for Kaylee to notice the glacial mood between her Captain and Inara. Inara swept into the dining room looking like she'd spent all afternoon on the perfect, bejeweled upsweep of her hair. Rather than the simple gown she'd worn that morning, Inara had dressed herself in a midnight blue kimono, embroidered from collar to hem with gossamer gold and silver thread. Abstract, perhaps, but somehow conveying with a single stitch here, a tiny knot there, the ecstacy of Union. The poetry, the elegance of surrender. In every stitch of thread it was apparent that this was the work of a master craftsman, indulging the whims of her genius to bring to shining life the essence of what a Companion is. Countless hours of labor, the gown bespoke prestige, status, refinement. Inara wore it with austere pride, and Kaylee found herself thinking that a bright, ornamental sword would not have looked out of place hanging at her friend's waist.

Mal had taken one look at her, then choked down the lumpy protein stew as if each second was costing him money and fairly bolted from the table, trailing unintelligible mutterings about things he had to attend to. Kaylee didn't understand it - she thought Inara looked so glamorous, if a bit, well, scary, but she had seen the scowling misery flash across her Captain's face. She had heard Wash begin to comment, saw Zoe forestall him with a glance. Jayne didn't bother with speech at all, just a lot of self-satisfied chuckling. Inara took a half-hearted bite of stew, then excused herself in a soft voice and burned a path back to her shuttle.

Zoe agreed to take Kaylee's turn at dishes until Kaylee could walk without the crutch. She and Wash cleared the table while Kaylee sat with Jayne.

"Looks like I-nara's getting ready for a job." Jayne rubbed a circle around his lips with two lascivious fingers.

"We ain't landin' on Persephone for days." Kaylee sighed. "I don't know what happened. Things was goin' so nice."

Jayne shrugged. "Mal humped himself." He grinned with wicked pleasure. "I-nara might need some consolatin'."

"Take me up there?"

Jayne squinted at her speculatively, but he was already on his feet and crossing to her. "I got a question. Last night, -"

"Yeah?" Kaylee settled against Jayne's chest, held onto the crutch he passed to her.

"When you were with I-nara..."

"Mmmmhmmm?"

"Did ya see her nekkid?"

Kaylee wrinkled her nose. "Just for our usual topless pillow fight, is all. That count?" She tightened her grip around Jayne's neck as she felt him falter.

"I'll be in my bunk."

She was still laughing when he deposited her at Inara's threshold.

--

Inara heard her mei mei arriving for a visit. She put the last of her jewelry carefully away in its storage compartment, and checked her reflection in the mirror. No tears, but it had been a near thing - the ghost of the afternoon's incense lingered strong around her still.

Kaylee hopped through the door, leaning on her crutch. "Quite an outfit you wore to dinner, 'Nara."

"It was a gift from my mentor." An antique, cherished for its history nearly as much as for Inara's memory of the giver. Inara had carefully packed her kimono away upon returning to her shuttle.

Kaylee examined the flowing robe her friend now wore. "What'd the Captain do?"

"Nothing." Inara helped Kaylee to the couch and leaned the crutch against the bulkhead. "We're just not...he doesn't think that I..."

Kaylee waited until Inara sat beside her. "What happened?"

"I offered to try to find a place for some of the children we saw today." At Kaylee's sympathetic smile, she continued. "On Sihnon."

"And he didn't take kindly to the notion."

"I'm as welcome as an Alliance platoon in his eyes." Inara exhaled a mirthless laugh as she shook her head. "I wasn't trying to - " Inara broke off, unsure of how to finish.

"Captain always meant to go back home to Shadow after the war. Zoe said, one time." Kaylee patted her friend's hand. "Never did. Nothin' left to go back to."

"The train - would you want that for any child of yours?" Her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper.

"Hope to God things never get that bad for me and mine. But that lady on the train - the matron? - she carries word back and forth, for the younguns with any family left. Off-world," Kaylee's head tilted back and she gazed up as though she could see the sky through the draperies of Inara's ceiling, "'Nara, these families ain't even got access to Cortex or nothin'."

"It would seem the Captain and I are simply too different for there ever to be an - an understanding between us."

Kaylee turned soft eyes on her friend. "I just don't think he has it in him to do it - to fly someone else's children off world, watch 'em tell themselves they'll get the chance to come back home someday."

"Is this what life is like, out here?"

"Sometimes."


	7. Run

The noise was too quiet for it to be Jayne. Mal knew the racket his gun hand made, tossing the kitchen late at night, following his nose and indulging in general bruinitry. Wash and Zoe never came up for air once they bedded down, and Kaylee would usually come find him on the rare occasions - usually lovelorn over some boy - she couldn't sleep through the night shift.

And there she was. Called her she in his head most of the time, no one else in there to ask him to clarify. Some kind of danger, some kind of not-to-be-indulged-in weakness, in just the saying of her name. He knew she'd returned from her appointment; Wash had told him hours ago, when her shuttle docked. But she hadn't emerged, and he hadn't taken the trouble to go calling. Taken the trouble is right, he thought. Nothing but trouble when the two of them were together, no matter how innocuous the conversation started.

As he moved closer, Mal could hear a steady, whispering stream, words he couldn't make out, as Inara kept up the oddly awkward battle she was waging against whatever she had on the counter. Reminded him of some of the old ladies at service on Shadow, whispering to themselves throughout the preacher's sermon, muttering their personal liturgies. He stepped softly behind her.

"Amen?"

The noise Inara made would have been a shriek if she hadn't swallowed it as she whirled around. Her eyes were wild for the scant moment before she recognized him, and she brandished a weapon above her left shoulder.

Okay, not a weapon. An ice cube tray, one she'd apparently been wrestling with the whole time.

"Captain." She half-closed her eyes and shook her head in weary scorn. "Would it break you to spend the copper to buy a tray that one can extract ice from without having to be some kind of muscle-bound - " she banged the tray against the counter, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, to punctuate her litany. Scratchy little chunks of ice skittered onto the counter and the floor, but the cubes themselves remained stuck.

"Nothin' wrong with that tray - use two hands, you just gotta twist - " Mal reached for the tray while Inara, fresh annoyance on her face, brought her hand up to shoo him away. He hadn't intended it, but he bumped the tray against her shooing hand, and she jerked it back, hissing in pain.

"What in the ruttin' hell-" he demanded, looking from her hand to her face.

"I hurt my hand. I need some ice." Inara half turned, moved her right arm against her so her hand disappeared into the folds of her robe.

Mal shook his head. "Show me." He crossed his arms and waited, filling the galley's doorway.

The only change in Inara's expression for the next several seconds was a very slight pursing of her lips. Her eyes held his the entire time, as if challenging him to say something. What the hell is she so riled about? Mal asked himself. Things hadn't been the shiniest between them last few days, but...then she withdrew her hand, exhaling brusquely, and extended it to Mal.

The hand was swollen around and between each knuckle - Mal took it in his two, turned it over gingerly, noticed some bruises emerging on her pink, uncalloused palm and fingers. A purple mark circled one puffy finger; she had obviously been wearing a ring when - something hot and bilious rise through him as a list of ugly possibilities started to assemble itself for roll call.

"Who." He was still supporting her hand with both of his own.

"Mal, it's not - "

"Who did this to your hand, Inara. Your client? That distinguished-looking older gent? Thought you called him a friend." He looked up at her face, noticed an odd sheen on her neck. He leaned closer, lifted her hair away. There was a constellation of bruises under the salve she'd applied.

Inara did not reply.

He made his voice soft and patient. "Tell me what happened." Mal knew she didn't need him scaring her more, so he rode herd on the anger trampling his insides.

He watched her start to say it three different ways before she got the sentence out. "It's not what you think."

"He hurt you." Mal wondered if the old man had ever felt hands around his neck.

Her answer was immediate, reproachful. "Talus would - no!"

"No one gets to hurt you, Inara." Mal chose not to dwell on the reason for the incredulous look she sent him. Instead, he twisted the ice cube tray and shook out several loose cubes. He wrapped them in a towel and handed the bundle to Inara.

"We had picnicked in one of the parks, in a secluded area. The valet had stayed behind to gather our supplies back to the transport, and Talus and I decided to walk. The park is very lovely, and cool in the shade. We were set upon by..." Inara was silent for a while, her brow uncharacteristically furrowed "thieves. There were two men." She left the galley, and Mal was surprised when she sat down at the end of the dining table, resting her hand on the ice pack. He'd assumed she was returning to her shuttle.

"Your hand?" Mal took the chair to her left.

Inara let out a deep breath. "I hit one of them. Not correctly, I haven't practiced in - "

He wanted to laugh, though few things had ever been less funny to him. "Ever been in an actual dustup?"

"They were...menacing my friend. Talus is no longer a young man, and his health has not -"

"Should have run for help." Annoyed respect bloomed through him for her courage.

"You wouldn't tell Zoe that."

"Zoe's a soldier - you're a - "

"Whore?"

Mal scowled. "Wasn't gonna say that." Lady was the word that had been on his tongue. Another thing that didn't bear too close an examination.

Inara's scowl mirrored his own, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "What I should have done is of no consequence after the fact. Thank you for the ice cubes, Captain."

It was clear she was trying to dismiss him.

"You got home hours ago," Mal observed. "Why'nt you come sooner?"

"I...woke in the night." Inara's glance flicked to the seating area near the table.

"I know you got smoothers in your shuttle." A nightmare. Putting the pieces together now. Thugs knock the old man out, then they're alone in the woods with an unarmed woman...Mal tried not to let his face show the dread he was feeling.

"I've already been interviewed, Captain," she explained. "At the hospital. Talus has been admitted until his injuries are seen to." Inara watched her own hand as she turned it over in the dim light from the galley. "This is the worst of mine."

"But someone laid hands to you."

Inara smoothed the fingers of her uninjured hand slowly over the bruises on her neck. "Yes," she nodded.

"Inara," he said, making his voice as gentle as he could, "did they - "

"No." Her voice was curt. "There was no...forcible...sexual assault." Using her formal language, Mal thought, the way she did when she was upset. "He had my throat and - he was shaking me - "

"How did you..? Tell me what they look like. Might not be far from that park. "

"They're in custody." Inara took a shallow breath, her hand at her throat. "A rider came up the path - "

"Got yourself a hero, did you? Was he - " Mal didn't know himself how he meant to end that question. Gallant? he mocked inwardly with the word he'd been using to punish himself in the days since their gorram fight about the gorram orphans.

"She." Hump. Chucklehead. Jayne. Here she is, scared out of her bed in the night and you're pleased she ain't got a dashing young rescuer to sigh over. Mal had to stifle a groan of self-disgust as he contemplated Inara sighing over the unnamed, undoubtedly lovely she on horseback.

"She must have heard me - or them - and as she got closer they stopped - " Inara's eyes seemed to look inward at the memory. "They ran off. They weren't armed; it seemed more a crime of opportunity than anything more troubling."

"But it's got you spooked."

Her annoyance was clear. "I'm not a horse, Mal."

"True." He'd heard the fatigue in her voice. "Let's get you to bed."

"I'm not - I'll stay here for a while." Inara indicated the ice. "So I can put the towel back."

Mal watched her shift as in discomfort on the wooden chair. He'd never seen Inara fidget before, not even a little. "Be more comfortable on the couch," he said, inclining his head to the seating area behind him.

"I think I will sit there for a moment." Inara crossed and chose a seat, Mal noticed, in the middle of the sofa. So her back was as close as possible to the corner. So no one could get behind her. He'd done the same, in his bunk on the long, bad nights - he knew Zoe had too. Mal frowned to himself; she'd been badly rattled, bad enough that she didn't want to go back to her shuttle. He stood.

"Good night, Captain." She wasn't looking at him.

Mal sat down beside her, leaving a little space between them. "Thought I'd take my ease here as well."

"Don't." Inara rearranged the towel around the ice.

"You're out of your head tired, jumping at every little thing. Just sit there and close your eyes a spell - I'll keep you company."

"It's just that no one has ever - I'll be fine." Some grit in her voice.

"Course you will. Fine and fluffy in the morning, but you been shook up some. Only natural you're having a hard time settling in. First night's the worst. I'll just - "

"You're not my hero, Mal."

He kept his expression unruffled. "Ain't that the truth. More's the pity to you if I were - mean old no-account smuggler to the rescue." Mal wondered, so fleetingly it barely registered, what it was that a man might do to qualify, in her eyes.

Inara began, "I'll just - "

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What're you fixin' to do? Wake up Little Kaylee and scare her to bits too? Go knockin' on Jayne's bunk? I ain't given you much reason to admire me, and you don't need to - but you're on my boat and when someone needs seeing to, I do the - seeing."

Inara gave a slow sigh, and perhaps unstiffened just a bit against the cushions of the couch.

"What do you advise?" Half-mocking.

"Just keep talking to me."

Inara looked doubtful. "Talking to you will make my nightmare go away?"

"Settle back now, close your eyes, just keep on with the listening to what you undoubtedly consider my coarse and annoying voice." He got a smile for that, kept his own smile to himself as he watched her relax a little against the ratty green upholstery.

"And how is this supposed to comfort me?"

"You hear me every day - when I'm not out doing - or when you're not out doing -" Mal made an exasperated sound. "The point is, familiar helps."

Inara eased out of her slippers, tucked them one-handed into the dubious, webby space under the couch.

"Take care of this in the morning - got some free time anyhow."

"Hmmm?" Her gaze flickered toward him.

"They're in lockup, right? Easy peasy - first thing I hop down, get myself pinched, make it so those fellas' hands ain't fit for squeezin' their own - "

"Please don't bother." She was closing her eyes, from fatigue or maybe just annoyance.

"No bother at all, darlin'. Zoe'll have me out before my coffee gets cold." Another smile - that smile, Mal thought, ought to come with a blue ribbon for whatever fella called it forth.

Inara folded her legs up under her as she leaned further into the couch. "Talus' private security team apprehended the men."

"Oh." Well, getting pinched wouldn't have been that fun. Maybe he'd find someone else to beat on tomorrow. Maybe one of Badger's boys. She was relaxing, he needed to keep her talking. About what? Their recent day at the beach? Too many uncomfortable associations; he didn't aim to get her all riled up again, although he preferred mad Inara to scared Inara any day. Her picnic? He wasn't keen to hear about all the luxuries another man could lavish on her.

"Kaylee's getting around well with her crutch."

He watched her nod. "Even up and down the stairs; she came to see me this morning - yesterday morning, I mean."

"Got a report about that."

"Report?"

"From Jayne. He wanted to know if I sanctioned the particular kind of recreation you womenfolk been indulging in." And Mal related Kaylee's mischievous joke at the big man's expense.

Inara's eyes flew open, warm with merry delight at her mei mei's rascally sense of humor. "There's no one like Kaylee."

"Not in all the turning worlds."

The silence grew between them, over the faint mechanical humming from the galley.

"Tell me about this lady on horseback." Mal leaned sideways onto the couch cushions, facing her, his arms folded over each other. Already knew the woman must be rich, to keep and stable a horse in the city.

Inara's eyes closed again. "Her name's Rodberta." She brushed her hair back and away from her face and neck. "She came to check on us in the hospital. Stayed with Talus all evening."

"That's a kindness." Mal rested his head against the cushion, his eyes still on her face. "How's he faring?"

"He was concussed, and some ribs were bruised, but he'll be going home soon."

"This Rodberta know him?"

"I think their families are acquainted." Her voice was getting softer. Mal watched her stroke her sore arm with the uninjured hand, snuggle her shoulders into a more comfortable position. "She's very..." a long pause. Inara was nearly asleep now, "thoughtful." Her eyebrows glided just a tiny bit above her closed lids.

This was probably the longest he'd gotten to look at her freely. Mal quickly recalculated - downward - his estimated hours of sleep tonight. "How's that?"

"She brought her...brother...so I wouldn't have to be..." Inara tucked her gown more tightly around her bare toes, rubbed her own knee a few times as if soothing herself.

"Very thorough, your new friend." Mal watched her hand moving slowly, doing all the things someone might do to comfort her, someone who was allowed to touch her. He might have taken that hand, had he remembered about such things. It had been too long since he'd held the hand of someone who wasn't dying.

Even her smile was sleepy now. "Nice to make friends... they've invited me for luncheon tomorrow." Her lips parted and closed, so delicately. Poppies, nodding in the breeze.

"Rodberta?" He kept his voice near a whisper. Her minky lashes trembled against her cheek as her eyes moved slightly behind closed lids.

One slow nod. "And her brother."

"What's his name?" He wasn't even sure that she'd heard him. Mal was tired, but it was so hard to close his eyes with her before him like this. Completely bewitching, just the way she breathed.

Another smile, she was completely relaxed and mostly asleep now. The name was no more than a murmur.

"Atherton."

--

When she opened her eyes she saw him sleeping, arms still crossed, shoulders hunched against a wind that wasn't blowing through the dining area. She'd never gotten a chance to look at him, to watch him unguardedly. His hair was getting a little long. Of course he hadn't shaved yet, and though the light was dim Inara could see the minute bristling line where his whiskers met his lips. One foot was tucked under the back of the other knee - he still wore his boots.

She closed her eyes again, listening to him breathe. Remembered him, his voice, during the night.

"Just me, carry on sleepin', just puttin' this blanket over - " and prepared, calmed by his voice, the touch of the blanket had not wakened her. The back of his warm hand against her chilled upper arm, a moment before he tugged the blanket higher over her, had been no cause for alarm even during this troubled night: she'd heard his voice and had known she was on Serenity, home, safe.

Inara opened her eyes, gathered in her hands the faded but clean blanket that Kaylee always left folded across one arm of the nearby chair. She moved it to the side, retrieved her slippers, and stood, pulling the blanket into her hands again.

Following his example, her quietest voice. "Mal." Inara leaned closer, his name a mere breath. "I'm going now, you might like this blanket, here - " and she moved to drape it over his shoulder and back.

It seemed that he was on his feet before his eyes were fully open, yanking the blanket to the ground. "'Nara!" he rasped wildly before he saw her standing in front of him.

Mal rubbed his forehead, shifted his chaotic hair through his fingers. "Not much for sound sleepin' any more."

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you - it's as you said, I'm feeling much calmer now and I'm returning to my shuttle." From her current, more rational state of mind, Inara found it faintly embarrassing, the intimacy of having had the Captain talk her to sleep as if she were a homesick adolescent. She told herself he'd simply used his knowledge of traumatic circumstance to assess, correctly, her short-term difficulties, and that his suggestion had been the most effective course of action.

It would be only proper to offer thanks to anyone who'd helped her through a trying circumstance. Inara made her smile politic. "I thank you for your attention to me this evening. It was very generous of you to give up your bed. Good night." She did not linger to hear what reply he might make in his sleep-roughened voice. Every step of the way to her bed, she kept herself firmly in hand. Reflecting on his words in the night, on the carefully unobtrusive touch on her arm, on the peaceful and vulnerable look of him, relaxed into sleep - all of this was fruitless and foolish. Inara set her mind firmly on her new friends and no one else as she lay down to catch a last hour of sleep.

--

He patrolled the hallways of his ship, his home, for the rest of the night. Stopped in his bunk to shave and pull on fresh clothes. Mal was in no mood to explain to anyone why he might not have been in his bunk for the night. He didn't want to hear more of what she'd said to him when she'd left him in the night, of the polished and distancing pronouncements she always seemed to have at the ready. He did not want to admit how much he preferred the soft, dimly-registered voice, whispering his name in the moments before the blanket grazed him and his mind snapped into the panicked wakefulness he'd resigned himself to after the war.

It couldn't have been more evident, her distaste at having needed his help the night before. Mal could understand it - she certainly did not want him to think she encouraged any familiarity or intimacy between them. She'd had a problem; he'd understood what was needed. The sleepy flush of her cheeks, the contented sigh he'd heard of her as she slept - none of it mattered a whit.

He may as well not have bothered. Inara did not come to breakfast. She left in her shuttle while he busied himself elsewhere.

--

Inara told herself that the day at the Wing estate was precisely the diverting curative she needed. She had first gone to Talus' private suite at the hospital - the visit was brief, but it was a relief to see her friend.

"My sweet girl, how do you fare?" he'd called from his bed.

"Much better, now that I can speak with you." Inara pressed a fond kiss to Talus' forehead. She'd known him since the earliest days of her career, and had always felt a genuine warmth toward the older man.

He'd frowned, his eyes tearing at the sight of her bruises. "Darling Inara, you should have run down the path! Michal might have heard you." The reproachful affection in the elderly valet's face echoed his master's words.

Inara touched his cheek. "How could I leave you, Talus? Would you have me be so faithless, after all our years of friendship?"

He shook his head at her. "You should have run."

--

When Inara's shuttle landed, Rodberta greeted her with warm congeniality - she seemed to regard Inara as a comrade, as an intrepid fellow adventurer, after the night before. Her brother Atherton spared no effort to see to her comfort and entertainment. He had exclaimed over her courage, her brave devotion to her friend, her self-possession in the hospital after the attack.

"And that such an extraordinary woman should also be possessed of a beauty so sublime that it puts the very dawn to shame? It's a marvel, I can't imagine what I've done to deserve your precious acquaintance." With tender solicitude, Atherton tucked Inara's injured hand into the crook of his arm as they toured the family's formal gardens after lunch.

"You were kindness itself, accompanying your sister to attend to the comfort of a stranger last night." Inara smiled at the young man. She was aware that he was amusing himself with his own flowery manners, with his elaborate compliments, but it was comforting to be treated with such delicacy.

"If I could truly earn your admiration, a woman of your accomplishments and grace, I should count myself happy to the end of my days."

For the hours of the afternoon, it proceeded in the same manner. During Rodberta's recital in the conservatory, while the three of them took a turn about the estate in the open carriage, conversing over the afternoon tea the servants brought them; Atherton devoted himself to anticipating every want or concern Inara might have.

After tea, Atherton guided Inara into the solarium for a stroll through his family's bonsai collection. "I have an entreaty to make, and I can only pray that you will not find me hopelessly forward."

Inara smiled her encouragement at Atherton.

"I realize that these inquiries are generally made through your Guild's interface, but I find my ardor for you is growing ungovernable. My dear Inara, if your professional commitments allow it, I would consider it an honor to engage you this evening." Atherton grinned disarmingly, and turned his head away. "I cannot bear to face you now; I tremble in fear of a rejection that will surely leave me miserable forever. Please deal gently with me, sweet lady."

Inara sighed through her smile. "Well, I wouldn't want you miserable forever..."

--

Never could get to three in a row. Last two jobs had been notable for the absence of blood, bruises, and treachery. But this was Badger's job, and the puffed-up bantam had found it necessary to send two other crews to collect the goods he'd sent Mal to - locals, probably agreed to work for cheaper and Badger thought he'd trim expenses.

Thought he'd also make a point, apparently, as to his opinion of Mal's character or demeanor or wardrobe or - Mal stopped pondering what, exactly, might have inspired Badger to encourage the local toughs to practice their thrashing skills on him. His face. His body. Parts of him he supposed he'd taken for granted, that they'd just do what body parts ought to do, just stay attached and not scream in pain everytime he blinked.

So Jayne, muttering foul and violent desire, had scraped the worst of the blood and dust off of him and dragged him to the mule. A grim-faced Zoe drove them home, and helped him into the infirmary. Mal touched his face - it was no pulpier than the hand doing the touching. Not much appeared to be broken, just powerfully dented. The smoother Zoe injected him with had made the pain within spitting distance of tolerable - not that it was within his power to spit at this moment.

The drugs were making his mind tilt, but he was pretty sure the Inara that was crossing the infirmary's threshold was the real Inara, rather than some kind of embarrassingly predictable hallucination. He tried to move his smiling muscles as she came close. Something on his face felt sticky.

"Hey, darlin'." Mal attempted to make both eyes do the same thing at the same time. "Made me feel better...knowin' you'd be along...to fuss over me...got your little basket?"

Her eyes were intent as she looked him up and down. She hadn't said a word. "Don't fret. I'm...not even stabbed this time. Zoe - "

"She told me." Something in Inara's voice made him try to get a look at her face. "I spoke to Zoe. You'll live." The gown she was wearing might have been new - Mal hadn't seen it before. Dark purple, fancy, fitted distractingly over her curves. A golden shawl floated against her shoulders like an enchanted fog.

"What are you lookin' at?"

"I'm looking for a fresh place to slap."

"Humh?" Mal was really hoping not to get slapped.

"It's one thing to get waylaid by criminals. It's another to have so little regard for your own life and health that you will willingly consort with them! The only reason you're alive, Mal, is that they didn't bother to kill you - and you don't care that you terrify - all of us. You'll heal, you'll limp around looking alarming for a few days, then go right back out and do the same thing again."

"There wasn't any consortin' goin' on - I'd only just met those fellas." he tried woozily.

"Don't imagine for a moment that I find you funny! And don't you dare lose consciousness when I'm speaking to you!" Inara gave the bed rail a formidable shake.

"I'm here, I'm here, just - don't shake me no more, darlin'." Mal tried to tap at the fingers still curled around the bed rail, and missed.

"You're here - stay here. I won't. And when your luck runs out and you do get yourself killed, I will not - " the sentence was punctuated by a low, oddly fierce growl. "I'm going. I have work to do."

--

Inara shook her head to clear the image of Mal's bruised and swollen face from her mind. She would not believe that he was cut from the same cloth as the men who had assaulted her, who had beaten a defenseless old man for the chance of a few coins. But it seemed obvious that he entered into business dealings with the worst sort of criminals, that he'd risk their viciousness and treachery for the money at stake.

She knew it was a delusion to think he'd always scrape by, always make it home. One day, any day, he could cross paths with someone who would take his life without a care for how much... everyone, she supplied firmly, needed him. For a moment, an unbearable picture of him, bloodied and lifeless, just a discarded body in some filthy alley, plagued her mind and she gasped in fresh pain as horror ripped through her.

She found herself standing still on the stairs; for how long it had been she didn't know. Every instinct in her heart implored her to turn around, go to him, hear his voice, watch him sleep, keep him - what? Safe? No vigilance of hers, no conjuration of her hands over his skin could armor him and keep this, or worse, from happening again.

Or he could be captured. Imprisoned, indentured, his ship confiscated and sold. His independence and dignity ripped away, which she realized would be tantamount to death for him. Inara knew Mal wasn't a stupid man - he had to be cognizant of the risks, and yet continued making his living in the same way.

Inara let a brief prayer pass again and again through her mind as she resumed her walk toward the shuttle.

--

She wasn't back until late the next morning. By that time Mal had forgone smoothers in favor of being able to walk upright and feed himself solidish food, and was heading toward the cargo bay to see about something he'd stashed a while ago that might be bartered for fuel cells. Hearing the shuttle dock slowed him up more - she was bound to be much faster than him at the moment, and he didn't relish another scolding.

When her door opened, he stopped altogether, to watch her exit the shuttle on the arm of an affluent and self-satisfied-looking young man. Last night's job, he assumed. Mal watched him keep up a continual stream of talk, bending close to Inara's ear in genial familiarity. The man's eyes, though, scrutinized every inch of Serenity's homely interior, and the smirk he very nearly hid communicated his gleeful scorn eloquently.

They strolled, arm in arm, to the cargo bay doors where a sleek transport vehicle hummed in waiting for the man. At the doors they paused, obviously exchanging pleasantries before a goodbye. The man kissed each of Inara's cheeks, kissed both hands while she laughed her protests and then bent, laughing himself, as if to kiss each of her fingertips. Mal watched her withdraw her hands, laughing softly while maybe chiding the man indulgently for his frivolity; he satisfied himself instead with caressing her hair, stroking her cheek, and kissing, very lightly, her smiling lips.

Inara watched the man descend the cargo bay ramp and seat himself in his transport, alongside the waiting driver. The man waved, blew a kiss to her with a flourish - but in spite of all his amiability, there was something appraising and cold about the last glance he spent on Serenity.

Mal could not read Inara's expression as she turned away from the doors and headed toward the stairs. He did see that she ascended the steps to her shuttle without once looking back.

--

"I got the message that you waved, my dear."

Seneca's smile was warm, but her face was full of loving concern. "Yes, I wanted to speak to you as soon as I heard word of the attack. Are you quite all right, mei mei? I can arrange transportation to Persephone if you need me."

"No, I know you would, but that's not necessary. I'm fine - and Talus has been released from the hospital." Inara took a deep breath, exhaled with a shake of her head. "It was unpleasant, certainly. the first night was...difficult, but I am none the worse for it." Because of Mal. And how had she repaid his kindness? Inara remembered their night on the beach, the morning after. It seemed that any closeness brought pain to both of them; what else was there to do?

Inara's words must have reassured her friend, because Seneca's eyes began to twinkle with good humor. "And you apprehended the criminals single-handedly?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Inara gave a puzzled laugh.

"That's the story in the dormitories. We're all inspired by your bravery, darling."

"Honestly - they set upon us so quickly - I only did the first thing that came to mind. And I got thoroughly choked for my trouble." Inara stroked soft fingers over the purpling bruises on her neck.

"And all is...well, otherwise?" Seneca's tone was so laden with sly insinuation, Inara couldn't help but be suspicious.

"Yes, I'm fine. What is this about?"

"I was wondering." Her smile was luminous with affection, with certainty. "Are you carrying his baby yet?"

"Seneca, please! Discretion! There is nothing going on between the Captain and myself." A mistake, and the very one Inara knew her friend had hoped for.

"Really? Interesting, then, how you assumed Captain Reynolds was the man to whom I referred."

Inara knew better than to hope that the blush stinging across her face had escaped her friend's notice. "I assumed you to be tormenting me, as always, with your outlandish imagination."

"I've seen your Captain. He invites - imagination." Seneca was nearly purring.

"Maybe for those who lack the pleasure of a personal acquaintance -" Inara suppressed the scowl she was feeling, and instead smiled confidingly. "I should tell you, I have just concluded a lovely engagement with a perfectly charming young gentleman."

"Yes?" She arched a perfect tawny eyebrow.

"Indeed - he's Atherton Wing. His sister came to my aid in the park. They're from one of the oldest families on Persephone."

"And you like him?"

"He was perfectly charming - "

"You already said that, mei mei."

"He spent the entire day and night attending to my every wish and comfort. No one could hope for a more amiable and complimentary acquaintance."

"We'll see."

"What is there to see?"

"Dear heart, if this young man crosses your mind three days hence, then I'll be interested."

Inara had been friends with Seneca for years, and despite her friend's delight in teasing, there was a deep trust between them. To no one else would Inara ask the question she now posed. "Should I have run?" she whispered without preamble, knowing there was no one more likely to understand her.

Seneca's face, incomparably beautiful when she laughed, grew now quiet and grave. In her eyes was love and a wellspring of compassion. "Darling, I think it's too late for that now."


	8. Monty Part 1

Zoe called to Mal as she approached the bridge. "What'd Monty need?"

"Don't rightly know. He's going to have to wave back when he composes himself." Mal glared at his first mate as he stood. "You didn't see fit to mention to him 'bout you getting married?"

"The conversation wasn't inclined in a personal direction, sir."

"You know how sensitive he is about that." Mal closed his eyes as he shook his head at the idea. "Probably wringing hambone-sized tears out of that beard of his as we speak."

"Think he's got a job? "

"Got somethin' in mind. We'll see what, soon's he gets over his lonely gorram wretchedness and waves us back."

It was nearly an hour later that Wash bounced the second wave down to Mal. "Got that inventory problem squared away?" Mal asked, referring to Monty's transparent excuse for the abrupt end to his earlier call. Not prudent to poke at the tender feelings of a man the size of Monty, even with millions of miles of cold black space as a buffer. Weren't right, either. Monty might be tough as a shaggy-haired prairie bull, unmatched in a fight, but he hadn't a mean bone in his gargantuan frame.

"Yeah, Mal," Monty answered, looking sheepish. "Guess I come beggin' a favor. I'd do it proper, hat in hand, 'cept I sorrow to say I lack even that." His sigh called to mind foghorns blowing across grey and mournful rocky beaches. "Went'n got my ship impounded."

It wasn't unheard of, for some of the more parasitic scavengers in remote parts of the Rim to catch a ship unawares, force it to land on a moon held by their partners in crime, then landlock the vessel and demand exorbitant fees for "docking privleges" that grew by the week. Such pirates were considered beneath contempt, even by other thieves and smugglers. This forced them to change locations often, to avoid a concentrated dose of the wrath they invited, but they'd typically strip any vessel they left behind of its best parts, leaving little more than a shell. Even aside from the discouraging news about Zoe, Monty had ample reason to be downhearted.

"Anyone we know?"

Monty nodded. "Twas Gallo'n his boys." His face twisted. "He's _renting _me one of my own shuttles to fetch the fee."

This news earned a scowl from Mal. "Where are you, Monty?" he asked, mentally running through the job prospects he'd been courting. "We'll come to you, get the _Clementine_ back before you need your next bath."

"Haven't gotten to the bad part, Mal." Monty studied his own thick fingers intently as they fiddled with a grimy-looking button on his coat. His face stiffened in a frown as he swallowed hard, looking so downcast Mal was afraid the big man might break down entirely. "I'm expected at the homestead. Tug's gettin' married in three days."  
"And you ain't keen on the news gettin' around."

Monty looked up in honest panic. "They can't know, Mal! I'd never hear - " he broke off. "Never mentioned this, but there was a time, in my younger years, my kin thought I might not be the swiftest - " Monty tapped a broad expanse of temple with a significant look. "Grew up fine, but I reckon I'm still feather-ruffled about it."

Mal nodded solemnly. "That'd be the case with anyone in your situation."

The hairy face grew stern and glowery. "And it'd be the story 'til the end of my days: _remember when Monty lost his ship and missed his baby brother's wedding?_ I won't have such words brung up at my funeral, Mal."

"So, _Serenity_'s to be your date for the wedding?"

"My family likes you, Mal, always have. We'll go in with a story about a caper, see Tug hitched, then head out to fix this mess with Gallo." A flash of anxiety crossed Monty's face. "That is, if you can see your way clear to helping me. I'd owe you one - another one."

"No trouble at all," Mal reassured his friend. "Send me your coordinates and I'll have Wash pick out a meeting place and plot a course for you."

--

"And the walking land mass is in love with you?" The conversation Wash had just concluded with Monty had been entirely genial, but he felt the need for some clarity.

"He's...attached. In a sentimental kind of way, I'd call it. Known Monty since the war, and he...well, I think it made him feel less lonely, having a woman to feel warm about."

"Warm? But you never...I mean, he didn't...warm you in any specific and corporeal kind of..."

"There a question in there husband, or just more stammering?"

"Was he ever your...suitor?"

"Why do I feel like I'm talking to my great Aunt Millefleur?"

"Zoe..."

She took pity on him. "He was not my suitor. No courtin', no sparkin', no pitching of woo. He's a friend, to me as well as Mal, and he needs our help."

Wash nodded his agreement. "And he'll think fondly on the lot of us for the help, and never give in to the urge to squash me like a bug."  
"That's my mister, always one for the exaggerating."

"Not at all!" Wash pulled Zoe into his lap, running warm hands over her. "You don't realize how devastatingly alluring you are, sweet lady wife." He watched as her eyes half-closed in sudden pleasure, then nuzzled his way from one elbow to her shoulder.

"Alluring?" Her giggle was the most rare and precious sound he could imagine.

"Enchanting. Intoxicating." He breathed deeply of her shining hair. "Bewitching. Enthralling."

"Someone's been playing with the cortex thesaurus again." But she kissed him just the same, smiling against his rising hunger.

"How about I set the auto pilot and we go to our quarters? 'Cause all these new words? I can spell them too." He sent a languid finger to trace a few letters down the graceful curve of her neck.

"Or we could stay right here. You feel like you could use some...warming."

--  
"You naked?" Mal strode into Inara's shuttle, looking around in interest.

Inara smiled at him. "Yes, that's exactly as charming and considerate as knocking." Her eyelashes fluttered in a show of disgust as she closed her book and rose from her bed.

He ignored the look as he sat. "Thought you should know - be a few days later than planned 'fore we reach Boros."

Inara finished smoothing the bed's satiny coverlet and gave him a sharp look. "And if I had appointments?"

"I conjure you're worth waiting for - it's your job to be, from what I understand." Mal leaned back against the couch cushions, fingers playing idly with the fringe of a nearby pillow.

"That's precisely what amazes me, Captain." Inara turned the full force of her smile on him. Her voice was all sweet indulgence. "How little you understand."

Mal held her gaze for a long moment, then stretched one arm casually along the back of the couch. He sent back a smile of his own. "Wouldn't keep you off your back on my own account, darlin', there's an emergency."

"Is that so?" But the rarely used word tugged at her concern, and Inara sat beside him to hear the circumstances.

"'Fraid it is." Mal explained the details of Monty's predicament while she listened.

"So we'll all be attending the wedding of this Mr...?"  
"Tug - just Tug. There's to be a doin's at the homestead the day before, then the wedding itself first thing in the morning."

"A _doin's_? Please enlighten me."

Mal grinned as he broadened his accent to its most rustic pitch. "Calf roping, seed spittin' contest - for the younguns, chicken races, hog callin'. Pig wrasslin', if'n we're lucky."

"That sounds lovely." Inara glanced at a book on the table. "You'll find me in my shuttle for the duration."

"Little Kaylee'll be fair disappointed to hear that - I told her you'd be palling around with her for the day."

"You did that deliberately!"

"Sure did. 'Sides, you like weddings. Just came from one a few weeks ago, if memory serves."

"Funny - none of the entertainment included farm animals."

"That's a shame - everyone knows livestock at a wedding is good luck." Mal shrugged and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "Honestly, it'll be a pleasant day, then we'll take a very brief detour to shoot bad guys, after which you can get back to business. More cash and carry sweethearts than you can shake a stick at."

--

"Best not to mention the particulars of your situation around certain of them in my crew." Mal explained to Monty as the shuttle returned to _Serenity_. "Zoe knows the scope of it, but Kaylee and the new merc Jayne may let something slip before your kinfolk, exposing you to some uncomfortable questions. We'll just frame it as your crew is elsewhere, settin' up the job while you pay your respects to the blushin' Tug."

Monty nodded his shaggy head in assent. "You got a gift for figuring out the details, Mal. Never was much for that kind of cogitatin', myself."

"Just know my crew is all. Kaylee'd talk to a stick in the desert, and Jayne's, well, you'll see." Mal opened the shuttle door and stepped onto the landing. Monty lumbered through after him, ducking his head to clear the threshold, and nodded in admiration at the cargo bay below.

"She's a beauty, sure as Buddha's round belly."

Mal glanced across the catwalk, then followed Monty's gaze around the room. "We'll have your _Clementine_ back in no time."

"And we'll be on time for Tug and Jemmie's picnic?"  
Mal started down the stairs with Monty following close behind. "Be there before the first of your cousins falls out of the sparkin' tree." He turned to his friend. "You hungry? We're about set to have some supper. C'mon and set with us."

"That Companion lady on board?" Monty asked, straightening his waistcoat under his leather duster.

Mal shrugged. "Probably."

"And you say she's single?"

"It's her job to be single, Monty. Never met a woman who showed less inclination to attach herself to a man. I get the feeling she could take or leave the lot of us."

"She prefers womenfolk?"

Mal blinked, then drew a deep breath. One hand reached out and grasped the catwalk's hot metal railing. He seemed not to notice. "Never seen her with a lady...client." An image he thought he'd firmly banished, from weeks ago, surfaced in his mind. Inara, her hair loose around radiant bare shoulders on the cortex screen, reclining on a bed with those Companion friends of hers...He withdrew his hand suddenly, shaking it a bit and looking at the reddened skin. "I imagine it's possible." He looked up to see Monty grinning at him. "What?"

The smuggler's eyes twinkled with disreputable mirth. "Better get to the dinner table 'fore you get any _hungrier_, Mal."

Over dinner, Mal filled the crew in on a bare outline of Monty's involvement in the trouble Gallo had been causing. It was much less than he had told Inara, but she figured he had his reasons for that. Kaylee was happy to frown in sympathy every time Monty looked her way. The two were soon chatting away, exchanging jokes, and teasing like old friends. Jayne had been unable to conceal his surprise at Monty's formidable appearance. He got little in the way of details in answer to the few questions he'd asked about the job, but he was used to Mal's terse way with information and his curiosity seemed satisfied before too long.  
_  
_Inara was quiet throughout dinner. She had smiled warmly, while Kaylee giggled at the bow Monty sketched when they were introduced. Unexpected, that he would not seat himself at their table before both she and Kaylee were at their seats. Even more so, the careful and affectionate worry that showed on Mal's face when he watched Monty. Inara hadn't expected Mal to have such patience and forbearance with anyone, and it made her wonder about the particulars of Monty's history. Monty mentioned several adventures that he, Mal, and Zoe had gone through during the war. Close escapes, improvised diversions, remembrances that had all of them laughing.

It struck Inara, how little note they seemed to take of the severe deprivation, of one kind or another, that inevitably shaped the background of most anecdotes. No rations. Foraging for food, eating after dark so as to avoid looking at what they had to choke down. Warm clothes, boots, only available through the black market. Straining whatever water they could find through their own shirts in an effort to purify it enough for drinking. And medical care - soldiers with only a few days' medic training, struggling to treat fearsome wounds and the lingering illnesses made worse by exposure, exhaustion, malnutrition...

Inara was still musing over the evening's conversation when Wash joined her in the galley, an armload of dishes rattling as he walked. "Wacky fun, with the stories, right?" he asked with a glazed-over smile. Kaylee's laugh rang out from the table, where she was still sitting with Monty and Mal. Jayne had left soon after dinner, mumbling something about pushups.

"I'm sure there are aspects of all our lives that others would find hard to understand," she answered, though the shake of her head and her answering smile conveyed her sympathy. "Were Monty's brothers in the war too?" Inara took a clean dishtowel from the drawer next to the sink.

"Just Monty," said Zoe as she entered the galley. She gave Wash an affectionate glance as she leaned against the counter. "Rest stayed on the homestead - takes a lot of hands to keep it runnin'."

"You've been there?" Inara wanted to know what to expect, but she knew she wouldn't get a helpful answer from Mal.

"Just once, for a few weeks on furlough during the war. Nice place."

Wash snorted over his shoulder from his place in front of the sink. He batted a hand at the hot water tap, and the stream roared into the basin. The noisily clattering plates dampened his muttering just the slightest bit, but Zoe only smiled and kept her attention on Inara.

"I wanted to ask what I should expect tomorrow - at the festivities that precede the ceremony." Zoe smiled at Inara's description of the day to come, but nodded her understanding. "I wouldn't want to..." her voice trailed off as she accepted a wet plate from Wash and folded it into her waiting towel.

"Stand out?" There was warm humor and, Inara saw gratefully, no malice in Zoe's expression. She set the dry plate on the counter, but Zoe picked it up and stowed it in the cabinet.

"What Mal described..." Inara rubbed at another plate, idly noticing the scratches and dents in its surface.

"Is worth exactly as much as anything else the man says to rile you." Zoe swept graceful hands down her own torso. "Just plan on something simple as possible - something you can dance in. They do favor dancing a mite more than games involving poultry."

Wash's voice was noticeably more cheerful. "What will you be wearing, sweet lady wife?"

"Not rightly sure. Nothin' flowery - wouldn't want to upstage my mister."

"How about that purple..." Wash's eyes softened as he absently extended another plate in Inara's general direction.  
"That ain't for public outings, husband." Zoe rolled her eyes at Inara and chuckled through a sigh. "Likely I'll pull the skirt out of storage, wear a pretty blouse. Bring a shawl or somesuch," she advised, "it stays light far into evenings, but gets brisk just the same."

"Oooh, it's gonna be so fun!" Kaylee danced into the galley, cheeks flushed with excitement and the whiskey she'd knocked back in Tug's honor. "Monty says there'll be fiddlers, and dancin', and we can swim during the day, and he's got neighbors and boy cousins..." She caught hold of Inara's hands. "What're ya wearin'? Let's all get real dressed up fancy and do up our hair and make the boys all..." Kaylee mimed a face of intrigued masculinity, for the moment before she dissolved into giggles, sighed, and flitted out of the galley with a new bottle tucked under her arm.

Inara finished drying the dishes and said her goodnight to Zoe and Wash.

"So early?" Wash teased, tossing the sponge behind the sink's tap. "There are surely hours more of _scrabbling naked through the tundra _stories. Punctuated by the always uproarious _givin' some sumbitch what-for _stories. And a sprinkling of _remember him? he's dead _stories."

"Wash." There was a note of warning in the way Zoe called his name. Inara left the galley, feeling suddenly an onlooker into something private.

"I'd scrabble anywhere for you, honeylamb, but what's the point of - "

"We remember because we can. Because too many can't."

--

Mal watched Inara leave the galley and approach the table. He returned the nod she gave him before she smiled at Monty like some kind of tranquil stone icon come impossibly to life. The massive smuggler had jumped to his feet, with the unbelievable quickness he'd always had, at her approach. Apparently, his thoughts lacked the same uncanny agility, for he simply boggled, frozen for a long moment at her soft words of good night.

Finally, he spoke through a strangled-sounding throat. "Good night, Miz Inara."

Kaylee piped up. "Can we get ready together, 'Nara?"

Inara nodded. "Come by my shuttle in the morning." She raised her eyebrows at Kaylee's whiskey glass, then gave her friend a significant glance. Her eyes flicked over the three at the table as she repeated her good night and left the room.

--

Mal let a few minutes, and a few fingers of whiskey pass before sliding out of his chair with a meaningful look at Monty. Monty, who utterly failed to take his gorram meaning. The meaning being, "seeing to important details regarding our plan," not, "latching onto any excuse to traipse along after the woman who makes me - _dian dao." _Monty's grin shone out alarmingly from his thatchy beard; it grew, somehow impervious to Mal's scowl. If anything, Monty grew all the merrier at Mal's stern expression, 'til Mal spoke. "I'll meet you on the bridge in an hour to wave _Clementine_."

Monty coughed, sent a sidelong glance at Kaylee, and composed his face more soberly. "Ahm, yes. An hour." Straightened his monumental shoulders and actually laced his fingers together on the tabletop, briefly, as if back in the front row of his schoolhouse, trying for blameless.

"Shame your crew can't make it to the wedding," Mal heard Kaylee comment as he left the table and walked with no noticeable haste to Inara's shuttle. He figured it must only be his imagination that he could discern a faintness of her perfume on the way, as if she'd left it in an alluring wake behind her. Still, he inhaled deeply each time, needing to decide, again and again, if what preoccupied him was fantasy or something real.

He found Inara looking through her wardrobe. A few garments lay on her bed or hung from the sliding doors to her closet. She had a dresser drawer open, and seemed to be perusing a stack of neatly folded, colorful scarves.

"Don't wear anything you can't get chicken spit out of, Monty's chickens are rare ones for spitting," Mal cautioned as she acknowledged his presence with an elegantly irritated shake of her head.

"I'm looking forward to the dancing," Inara replied pleasantly. "Perhaps the family distracts you with ill-mannered barnfowl to keep you away from the civilized people."

Ah, she'd spoken to Zoe. Nothing like womenfolk in collusion to spoil his fun.

A length of cloth on her bed, deep rose in color and soft-looking, caught his eye. His fingers hovered over it before he put them in his pocket. His voice was low. "That's pretty." He wasn't looking, and didn't see the startled expression Inara wore, for only a moment, in reaction to his words.

Inara gestured, a little diffidently. "Kaylee wants to -" she paused, continued in a stronger voice. "You didn't come calling to help me pick out an outfit. I'm assuming Monty doesn't want his family knowing the extent of his troubles?"

"I could help with the outfit picking - are you a twirler, by happenstance?" Mal gestured with an upraised finger. Maybe the whiskey was making him silly. Didn't usually, though. He moved aside a ruffly skirt and sank into the couch. A stack of faintly gleaming bangles on the table caught his eye.

"Mal." He might have imagined the ghost of a smile, because her voice was all business. "What do you need from me?"

He'd gotten one of the bangles twirling on the table, and was reaching for another. "Huh?"

Inara moved closer, caught the spinning bangle between two graceful fingers, and installed it safely on her own arm. "Why do you want me at the wedding?" She retrieved the rest and examined them as if they were new to her.

"The usual, darlin'. Make us look good. Monty's family won't suspect his ill-fortune if he's traveling with a crew prosperous enough to pass muster with a Companion."

"I - well, I don't want to attract any undue notice - not at a wedding." Mal saw now that the blush of her cheeks was the exact same rose color as the frock on the bed. Why was she so pink-cheeked? Trying on dresses must be a warming pasttime.

"You reckon there's a way to avoid that?" He glanced around at the dresses she was considering. Hell, she could make her entrance wearing one of _his _outfits and still be the most...he closed his eyes against the sudden image of Inara wearing one of his shirts. She'd worn one that day in the galley, and he'd found he couldn't help his own imagining...a few buttons fastened, a few more unfastened, shirttails reaching down her smooth bare legs..._ai ya_ but he was doltified over this woman. He checked her expression, already formulating an excuse for what must have been the ungodly silly look on his own face, but it seemed her eyes were still on the mysteriously intriguing bangles. They clanked together musically as Inara ran her fingers over them.

"You've known Monty a long while." This was softly spoken, an invitation to confide. She glanced up at him.

Mal nodded, but did not offer more.

"And I notice you've taken care to keep his trouble a secret."

"Never met anyone like Monty for protecting them that look to him. Once he takes you, you're family and there's nothing he won't do for his own. I've seen him cold, sick, half-starved - but steadfast as the pull of the stars, doing for his crew nonetheless." Mal looked at Inara a little sadly. "I know the figure he cuts, and it's a figure of some fun, truth be told, but it's not in me to sport over him." He shrugged. "There's also his being able to snap my neck left-handed without half trying."

"I think I understand." Inara paused at this, thoughtfully, and it seemed to Mal as he watched her look at him that she might have more to say. The moment passed, and she asked a question instead. "What about after the wedding? Will you and Monty contact the proper authorities?"

"Authorities?"

"Yes, with regard to the complaint against this man Gallo."

"You could say that."

--  
"Up. No, down, down, down, I'm done changin' my mind. Up is pretty, but down, I can shake it around my shoulders." Kaylee demonstrated as she shrugged flirtatiously, to Inara's approving grin. "Plus, I'm hopin' to get into some boy trouble tonight, and up don't stay up - it's always a dead giveaway when you're trying to sneak back into the party after an hour or two of kissin' on a boy you don't know."

"Very wise," Inara agreed, and reached for something in the inlaid wooden box before her. "You can pull it back a little with these, though," she offered, showing Kaylee two pretty hair combs embellished with gleaming mother-of-pearl. "And take this as well," she said, offering a larger clasp. "You might want it if you go swimming."

"Shiny! Thank you, 'Nara." Kaylee laid the combs in her lap and looked at her friend with frank affection. "Getting ready is almost as fun as going, with you here."

Inara's voice was soft. "I think so too. About you, I mean."

There was a slight pause before Kaylee met Inara's eyes and drew a breath. "I want you to stay with us, Inara."

"You think one of the cousins will sweep me off my feet?" Inara batted her eyelashes coyly.

"That ain't it and you know it. No teasing, you're not just a renter and ain't been for a long while. Like I imagined a sister might be." Kaylee's eyes filled, but she continued in a determined voice. "We all want you to stay with us."

"You're very dear to me as well, _mei mei,_ I hope you know that." Inara squeezed Kaylee's hands gently. "But what's got you so sentimental today?"

Kaylee shrugged. "I guess it's just the wedding. Tug and Jemmie, makin' a new home - a new family in the morning. Bet they mean to be together forever, as family should be. Maybe not the family you were born into, but no one should be without."

"Being family is no guarantee - sometimes the people you love most are the ones least able to...keep from failing you."

Kaylee shook her head earnestly. "Family means you keep trying. Find a new way, what else is there?"

Inara sighed, then sent Kaylee a beguiling smile. "This is far too sober a topic of conversation - we have some serious prettying to do." It was a dodge and they both knew it, but Kaylee let the subject drop with a wistful nod.

--

At Monty's direction Wash landed _Serenity_ in a clearing at the edge of his family's homestead. The big smuggler was the first one in the cargo bay, smoothing his beard and brushing nervously at his worn brown trousers while eyeing the staircases for _Serenity's_ crew.

He caught sight of Mal coming down the stairs in his best clothes and shined boots, a sizeable bottle tucked into the crook of one elbow. "Ain't it early for _poteen_? Not that I'd refrain, mind."  
**  
**"Ain't for us, Monty. Don't want to show up at the homestead with one arm as long as the other, 'specially for a wedding. I know liquid congratulations may not be tradition in the strictest sense, but the fellas'll put 'em to good use just the same."  
"Them girls gonna be ready on time? Your little mechanic's quite a drinker."

Mal checked the stairs to Inara's shuttle. "I heard them earlier, giggling and bustling about. Reckon they want to make their entrance with proper fanfare." As if on cue, the shuttle door opened and Kaylee appeared, dressed in a pretty flowered frock Mal remembered all too well. She reached a hand out for Inara, who wore a plum-colored gown that draped softly around her. The rose garment, which Mal now saw was a light cloak, rested on her arm. She passed one of the two little quilted bags she carried to Kaylee, and the women started down the stairs.

"Ain't no one gonna be inquiring after _Clementine _with these ladies on our arms," Monty remarked. He raised his voice. "Wish a hangover looked as fetchin' on me, Kaylee-girl!" He moved suddenly to the bottom of the stairs and wrapped Kaylee's waiting hand around his arm.

Kaylee smiled in delight at the compliment. "Takes more'n a few sips of whiskey to keep me from a party." She glanced back at her friend. "Pretty as candy from a store, right Inara?"

"I should hope so," Inara replied, reaching the last steps. She smoothed the fabric of the cloak against her arm.

"Mal, what's wrong with you?" Monty growled. "Give the lady your arm!"

"That's quite un-" But Inara ended her objection when Mal, with a playfully mocking half-smile, sketched a bow and offered her his arm.

"So you're in disguise as someone respectable today?" she murmured as she took her place at his side.

"I am a man of great complexity, did you not know that?" Mal tried to keep his look at her brief. He lowered his voice, spoke only to her. "And I'm not the only one in _disguise_, Miz Serra. Odd how scrubbing off all that makeup makes you look like a woman who ain't- "

"Don't start, Mal."

She was probably right, although she'd never hear him say it. Not that, or any of the other things he was thinking. How he could tell she'd done different - things - to her eyes and cheeks and lips, he couldn't say what, but he'd never seen anything finer. How her eyes were shinier than the tiny gems winking at her earlobes and throat. She looked like an angel and she looked like a woman, and he honestly did not know which was worse. He resolved not to look at her.

There was a clatter on the stairs as Jayne appeared. The dress clothes he wore made him look peculiar to Mal's eyes, like a circus bear on a unicycle. Mal could hear that Kaylee judged differently.

"Ain't you _swai_! And me too, look," she ordered as she dropped her hand from Monty's arm and twirled in her flowered dress for the merc's admiration.

Jayne eyed Kaylee's bare legs. "Got your underbritches on? Elsewise, be mindful once the dancing starts." He followed his counsel with a friendly leer. "Or just come dance with me."

Kaylee sent him a flicker of a scowl, then smiled. "Of course! I'm wearing my lucky bloomers - ain't never failed me yet! They got me this job, ya know."

Jayne looked suspiciously from Kaylee to Mal. "How'd that happen?"

"Well, I'd met this fella - " was as far as she got. "Ooooh!"

Zoe Alleyne Washburne wore a dress like she did everything else, which is to say: she made beautiful look deadly, and deadly look beautiful.

The skirt was a soft suede, a shade of caramel just two shades lighter than her glowing skin. Buttons covered with the same fabric insinuated up the back, and it twitched and danced around her hips as if it had life. The hem, whipstitched in an intricate pattern drawn in darker browns and reds, rose and fell in bewitching waves that flared above and below her knees. The fabric was light and fine enough to illustrate every move of the beautiful muscles beneath. She wore boots, but not the military style she favored for every day wear. These were a softer, lighter leather that draped around the smooth skin of her calves. Her fitted blouse was a deep red with a wide, squared neckline. A dark brown leather sash girded her tiny waist, its ends wrapped and tied in a tricky-looking knot that lay gently against one side. Her makeup was simple perfection, her hair glorious around her shoulders.

Wash followed, looking anxious and trembly in one of his festive shirts. His breathing was loud and ragged, as though he found himself forgetting to take in air and had to catch up as best he could.

"Wow, Zoe," Kaylee exclaimed, moving close to admire her finery, "you look like Christmas dinner."

Zoe smiled. "Don't have much occasion for fancy, I like to enjoy it when one arises."

Inara followed Kaylee. Her educated eye took in every detail of Zoe's appearance. "Beautiful. And it suits you perfectly."

Zoe acknowledged the compliment with a slight but warm grin. "Put a stop a few years back to some model citizens tryin' a shake down operation - and one of the grateful merchants was a fair hand at tailoring."

Inara leaned in and lowered her voice. "I'm not certain how much your poor husband will be able to endure." Wash was bent from the waist, resting his forehead against the top of a large metal crate. He seemed to be muttering to himself between deep inhalations.

Zoe's enigmatic smile was her only answer.

"_Ta ma de..._Zoe, you sure got some fine - " but Jayne swallowed the rest of his remark when she swung her glance around to him.

Mal caught Monty's look of resigned mournfulnes. "That's enough admiration spread around - let's get moving." He pushed the controls that opened the cargo bay doors and turned toward the exit.

The crew's excited chatter ended as suddenly as an extinguished flame as they caught first sight of Monty's homestead and the land around it.

The landscape was extravagantly, ridiculously beautiful. Grand in scale, everything was, from the stands of vigorous trees to the clouds in the brilliant sky to the whitecapped mountains on the horizon. A wide and shining stream, flanked by wildflowers of every color, ran down a velvet-grassed hill near them. The glassy, swirling water crashed over and around mossy boulders studded with tiny golden blossoms - its sound traveled through the soft, clear air to reach their ears.

Wash broke the silence. "Mite unnerving, not being able to _see_ the air," he joked. "Just having to trust that it's there."

Monty started down the ramp, checking the buttons of his coat as he walked. "They'll be waiting for us." He traded a look with Mal. "Ain't changed a bit, has it?"

Mal shook his head, then called over his shoulder to his still-standing crew. "For once we're welcome somewhere, let's go show off our fine selves."

Zoe followed, leading Wash by the hand. Kaylee and Jayne walked behind them, unabashedly wide-eyed. "There fish in that crick?" Jayne blurted out, sounding younger than Mal had ever thought to hear.

Monty chuckled. "Right time of year, you can nearly walk across their backs from one bank to the other," he answered wryly. "Mal here caught our dinner one night with no more than a net and some milkweed seeds. 'Course," he added, "he was just too lazy to get up to the house for a proper rig."

"I was improvising," and although Mal was defending his character his eyes were twinkling as much as Monty's. "The seeds were ready to go airborne, all fluffy-like." One arm arced wide in a pantomime of dispersal across the water. "Look just like water skeeters to the trout." He shook his head in mock sorrow at Monty. "Not my doing that you've raised some particularly dim and gullible trout on this world."

"For real fishing you want to hike to the river. Sturgeon nearly as big around as Miz Kaylee here. They'll fight you, but it's rare fine eating."

The crew had strolled along the stream while Monty was explaining, and now they came to a low wooden bridge. It was weathered and very simple, just wooden planks with no railing on either side. "Have a care," Monty advised. "Gets a little slick when the stream is up."

"You fell in that one time," Mal reminded his friend.

"Sure did," Monty confirmed, unembarrassed. "Fallin' in just means it's time to lay off the whiskey a spell."

"Why'd you ever leave?" The question might have been indiscreet, but Monty was already well under Kaylee's spell and took no offense.

"Long as the days are in the summer, that's how long the nights are come wintertime. Makes me melancholy," the big smuggler explained in a confiding tone.

"So he takes a job in deep space?" Wash murmured to Zoe, who shushed him in a low voice.

"Besides, there's that problem with the animals," he continued, falling in step beside Kaylee.

"How do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head to look up at him.

"They hate me. Can't abide the sight of me, not a one of them. Ma told me early on it was best I go." Montys expression became a little distant. "War just made it a more pressing concern - there was someone going to stand for Greenleaf from all our neighbors, wouldn't have felt right for one of us not to go."

"So how'd ya get into..."

"Smuggling?" Monty provided the word without embarrasssment. "Just had a knack, I reckon."

"Man could sell dirt to a fish." Mal shook his head. "Never seen the like. Make him feel happy to be getting it, too."

Monty's flush of pleasure was evident even through the tangle of his beard. "Well, I -"

"Maaaaaa! Clairmont's home!" Following the sound, the crew saw a slim figure dash across a nearby field and up a low hill.

"Clairmont?" Wash whispered to Zoe. "Clairmont?"

"Must be Jolly. No one else is that fast."

"Jolly?" Mal's eyes crinkled with his smile. "Got to make sure I pull her pigtails, that one."

Monty sent a knowing look. "She's done with the pigtails, Mal. Nearly running the place."

Mal scoffed. "How can that be?"

"It's been some years since your last visit."

Three riders came over the hill at a fast clip. The tall grass seemed to dance in lustrous waves around the horses' legs as they approached. The riders called out greetings, then seemed to decide, in the same instant, to race toward the newly arrived guests.

"Ah, she's got Tug and Baby Bob with her." Monty's eyes darted anxiously toward Mal, only calming at Mal's reassuring nod.  
The lead rider reined her horse into a turn just in front of the group, then slid out of her saddle and landed lightly on the ground for the barest moment before launching herself into Monty's waiting arms. "Weddings and funerals, that's when we see you?" she chided against his shoulder. Behind her, the chestnut horse snorted loudly.

"Jolly, I -" Monty set her back on the ground, an aggrieved look on his craggy face.

"Never mind now, I see you brought old friends." Her eyes were warm as she greeted Zoe. Monty moved away to greet his brothers.

"Little-bitty Jolly?" Zoe let the younger woman pull her into a fierce embrace."You sure grew up pretty."

"Who's this?" Jolly asked, and exclaimed in delight as Zoe introduced her husband. Then she turned to Mal. "You haven't changed a bit, Malcolm Reynolds." It seemed to Mal that there was an odd formality to her voice as she spoke his name. Her eyes passed over his shoulders as she took in the people following him.

"Reckon it's a kindness of you to say so, Jolly. But you've changed enough for the both of us." Not a little girl any more, but that wasn't a topic that bore lingering over, so Mal cleared his throat and gestured around him. "You already met my pilot Wash. Let me introduce you to the crew." Kaylee and Jayne stepped forward and offered their greetings.

Jolly's smile remained firm as she turned toward Inara. "Welcome. You must be - "

"Inara Serra," Inara bowed slightly as the two women clasped hands. "I am traveling on board Serenity for the time being. Your brother was kind enough to extend an invitation to your lovely home."

Monty joined the group, one arm slung over each brother. "Everybody, this is Tug the groom, and the ugly one's Baby Bob." He grimaced slightly at hearing a wickering sound from the waiting horses.

"My kind of ugly," breathed Kaylee as she gave Monty's brother the once over.

Baby Bob smiled as he spoke to the group. "Let's head to the house." He nodded his head back in the direction they'd come from. "Ma's waiting breakfast."


	9. Monty Part 2

The breakfast Eulalie Powell served might have dwarfed Serenity's pantry allotment for a week, and inarguably contained more fresh, real food than Mal and his crew saw in a month. Inara chose not to take a closer second look when at first glance it appeared that Jayne's eyes were welling up at the sight of the heaping platter of bacon rashers and the dozens of whole-wheat popovers drizzled with fresh honey.

Besides Eulalie's welcome and the crew's appreciative exclamations, there was little conversation as everyone tucked in. Inara noticed that Kaylee had secured an invitation from Baby Bob to join him at a small table near an open window. She had to suppress a grin at seeing her friend's excited expression, and at Baby Bob's admiring glance when Kaylee shook her hair around her shoulders.

The Powells seemed as excited about Serenity's arrival as the crew was to be there, Inara mused as Baby Bob rose with a gallant smile to refill Kaylee's pear cider. She made her expression genial and admiring and let her eyes scan the room. Tug and Jayne were in animated conversation at one end of the long table; the topic was fishing if Tug's pantomime was at all accurate. Zoe and Wash had taken plates outside. Inara could see them through the door. They sat hip to hip, plates balanced on their laps, on the porch swing flanked by two massive stone planters overflowing with ferns. And Mal...Inara willed herself not to linger on the picture of Mal sitting between Eulalie Powell and her beautiful green-eyed daughter Jolly. Joselletta Holly, Inara had been given to understand on the walk to the house. It was only after christening Claimont, Teegardin, Gondolfin, and Joselletta that Eulalie had given up her poetic aspirations and settled on Bob for her youngest.

Inara nodded at something Monty had said to her, taking care to appear unconcerned while she reflected on the situation. Jolly fancied herself in love with the Captain, that had been clear to Inara from the moment she caught sight of the young woman's face. Pride and desire both, in her face as she slowed her horse at looked down at them. At him. Inara had seen how her first look, challenging and needful, was to Mal alone, and what she could not have anticipated was the stab of compassion she had felt for Jolly.

The Powell brothers cleared the table with impressive speed and efficiency, chattering to their guests as they whisked away plates and pitchers. "Bet you're not beating me this time, Reynolds," Inara heard as Tug hustled past the fireplace.

"Care to make that official, little brother?" Mal did not see the sparkle in Jolly's eye as she heard his easy way with her family.

Meanwhile, Kaylee and Baby Bob were making plans of their own. "What if the water's nippy? How'm I gonna get myself warmed up proper?" Kaylee challenged Baby Bob with an inviting smile. He studied her for a moment, his green eyes thoughtful through a thick fringe of sooty lashes. Then he grinned, dazzling, slow and beguiling. He bent low and whispered something in her ear, patting the hand that rested confidingly around his bicep. The whispering went on for quite a while. Kaylee went very still, then rose on her tiptoes to catch every reassuring word. She must have approved of his plan, Inara saw; her only answer was a delighted giggle.

"Did you get enough?" Eulalie asked as she paused by where Inara and Monty were still sitting.

"I did indeed, it was wonderful. I don't think I've ever had such sweet raspberries."  
"Fin tends the patch. Been a good season for them this year."

"You must be terribly busy getting ready for the ceremony."

"Tug and Jemmie got most of it seen to - I never aimed to raise boys that'd need me hen-clucking over them forever." Eulalie paused and looked out the nearest window. "You should head out with the young folk, they're starting the games soon." And she strode away quickly through the dining area, giving directions or answering the questions of everyone she passed.

Inara stepped onto the sunny porch where she'd seen Wash and Zoe earlier. The painted blue swing was empty, but Inara caught sight of them strolling down the hill to where the stream widened into a small lake. There was an aged-looking pontoon raft in the middle of the lake. Kaylee and Baby Bob were sitting on a flat rock near the water's edge.

A metallic clang, followed by a familiar shout caught Inara's attention and she whirled in some alarm. Tug swaggered around Mal, his gloating and chuckling evident even from a distance. Mal was stalwart in his refusal to acknowledge the gibes. He calmly rolled up both sleeves, then bent and selected a battered horseshoe from the grass at his feet. Inara was not close enough to hear the remark he made to Tug, just before he threw: but his mild exultation and Tug's genial aggrievedness made the situation clear.

They were still trading promises and aspersions when a hoseshoe flew by from the opposite direction, at speed and alarmingly close to both their heads. As one, the two men ducked and turned, just in time to see the second horseshoe whizz past their ears.

"Fin!" Tug bellowed loudly but without real heat, "If you're planning to chunk, chunk Reynolds! It's my wedding day!"

"I ever chunk you without I meant to?" Fin challenged as he emerged from under some low-hanging branches.

"Well - yeah!" Tug brushed back the wheat -colored curls sitting against his left cheekbone. He tapped an ever more irate finger against a noteworthy scar. "Remember last Christmas?"

"That," drawled Fin as he half-closed his eyes in disgust, "was n'more than a ding, even Father Melody said so, ya great babyman." He caught sight of Inara, who was still watching from near the porch. Fin snatched the hat from his head and bowed extravagantly. "Is it the Rapture, then? You've come to take me Home at last?" He strode toward her, one horseshoe still dangling from the fingers that didn't hold the hat.

Inara had to tilt her head back to see his face as he approached. She introduced herself. "I understand I have you to thank for the delicious raspberries your family served at breakfast."

"Had I known you were there, I would have got home faster." The smile Fin sent her was genial. "Or let Jemmie bring the catch in himself. Jemmie!"  
A second man strode out from where Tug had thrown the horseshoes. He was leading an ambling black mule with substantial-looking panniers on each side of his flanks.Jemmie nodded warmly, calling a friendly welcome at Mal as he passed. He tipped his weathered green-brimmed hat to Inara and repeated the welcome as he hastened by on his way to the house. "I come bearing luncheon," he called over his shoulder.

It seemed as though Jayne had materialized out of thin air. "That's fish in there?" he asked in lieu of an introduction, staring after the laden mule.

Fin nodded. "We'll have more guests arriving throughout the day, and we don't aim for 'em to celebrate hungry. Loaves and fishes a plenty, and more besides." He turned toward Inara. "You waiting for your turn at horseshoes?" He waved the one in his hand and smiled good-naturedly. "I could thin out the competition a touch."

Inara pretended to consider the offer for a moment, then shook her head as if with great reluctance. "That's very kind of you, but at the moment I will decline."

"Well, I feel compelled to entertain you in some fashion, you being a guest. If not Tug and Reynolds ducking horseshoes, let's see...A tour!" Fin took Inara's hand in invitation. "We've got some of the wagons readied for tours of the place." He raised his voice as he recognized one of the silhouettes against the water. "Zoe! Bring your man and come ride with us!"

Inara saw Zoe wave in reply, then start up the hill toward them, hand in hand with Wash. Sensing something she glanced toward Mal, but he stood with his back to her, hands on his hips, evidently still glorying in his victory over Tug.

Fin led the party to a small outbuilding tucked under some maple trees. He whistled to the two horses that ambled around the small pasture adjacent, and they trotted to him. Fin beckoned for his guests to follow as he opened the barn's wide doors and quickly hitched the horses to a small wooden wagon. He helped Inara onto the cushioned seat beside him while Wash and Zoe settled into the back seat under the canopy. The bench was wide, but when Inara turned to speak to them, she saw Zoe tucked under Wash's arm as he urged her still closer. The two women exchanged a glance of understanding, and Inara turned back with a smile as the wagon started up the sunny road to the main house.

Fin halted at the front porch and spoke. "I'll be just a moment. I'm fetching Gramma Carmody. She'll like the ride." He disembarked with one smooth jump, and quickly strode across the porch and through the door. Fin emerged a bare minute later, accompanied by a diminutive, gray-haired lady. She walked with confidence, her hand tucked into her great-grandson's, his arm around her shoulders, and her expression was relaxed and alert. Even so, Inara could see that the older woman navigated her way from memory. Her eyes appeared completely sightless.

Fin helped his great-grandmother onto the bench beside Inara, then returned to his side of the wagon, giving each horse a pat as he moved past.

"Good morning, Mrs. Carmody," Inara greeted the lady. Wash and Zoe added their greetings from the second seat.

"Go back to kissin, you two," advised Mrs. Carmody placidly.

"Yes, ma'am," Wash sighed, and Inara heard Zoe give a low, contented hum as her skirt rustled against the fabric of the seat cushion.

"Good morning, my dear." Mrs. Carmody's voice was bright and genial as she addressed Inara. "You must be young Malcolm's Companion."

Although Inara could not actually hear her friends listening avidly from the bench behind her, she felt sure she sensed it. "I do travel on _Serenity_, Mrs. Carmody," she answered warmly. "And I'm especially glad to do so today. It's a privlege to visit such a beautiful home."

"Nearly 120 years our family's been on the homestead. Not always easy years, but that's true of any family."

"Indeed. You must be very proud." Inara saw the old woman nod, then raise her blind eyes toward some nearby trees.

"See that orchard?" Mrs. Carmody pointed at a handsome sweep of wide trees. "_Dame Blanche _peaches. My Neil planted those when he was courting me." Her smile transformed the weathered face, and an image came to Inara of the great beauty she must have been as a young woman.

"He told her if she'd have him, the peaches would have to content themselves with being the second sweetest thing on the homestead." Fin smiled down at the women beside him. "I'm beginning to take his meaning," he added, his green eyes meeting Inara's.

She decided to ignore the unsubtle noise she'd heard from beneath the canopy. "The land is beautifully tended; it's clear your family has worked to make it an extraordinary place." Though wild-looking at first appearance, Inara realized that the gardens and fields surrounding the house had been carefully cultivated, in some instances over several decades. The trees providing shade and wind breaks for the house; the lush waving grass on the hill; even the riotous bloom of flowers along the stream - all were evidence of careful and attentive planning. And prosperity, Inara acknowledged to herself as she noticed some swaying, grayish-green stems topped with fuzzy blue blossoms - a family with no disposable income would scarcely install a lavender knot garden around a rustic clutch of beehives.

They rode on past several more orchards of fruit trees. In each, there were a few colorful canopies and hammocks hung between the trees. "For those of our guests who're so inclined," Fin explained. "High summer like this, some can't bear to sleep indoors." There were pastures for some sweet-faced dairy cows and a few befuddled sheep wandering among the velvety green hills. Fin stopped several times so his guests could get out and walk, enjoy a particularly beautiful view or stretch their legs. The day was as sweet and clear as any Inara could remember, though her mind kept returning to a warm spring day on an empty beach. _Never mind that_, she told herself. Both Fin and Mrs. Carmody were proving to be enjoyable company.  
Fin stopped the wagon near a wide stream. Just to the left of the curving bridge was a small six-sided gazebo amongst a thriving bed of herbs and wildflowers. The scent of fennel drifted through the air, and Inara could see its fine bronze foliage swaying as the wind blew.

"Ah, that's a good boy," sighed Mrs. Carmody as Fin helped her down from the wagon. Her smile seemed to reach back through long years. "My favorite place on this green world." Her steps were so confident as she moved up the pebbled path to the stairs, an observer would be forgiven for doubting her blindness. She seated herself on one of the wooden benches inside - Fin had brought her a cushion from the wagon - and leaned back against the trelliswork that made up the walls between the seats and the slate roof.

"The girls will sit with me," she announced to Fin with the imperiousness of the very old and well-loved. "Walk down the brook with the young man, see about some flowers for the tables. None of the _asclepsias_, mind you."

Zoe and Inara came and sat with the old lady, who squeezed both their hands as they entered. "See my butterflies?" she asked, as though her eyes could follow the winged creatures that did flutter around the garden in great number. "I have added to this garden every year since I was a bride. Neil used the posts of our wedding shelter to build this for me."

"It's beautiful, ma'am," said Zoe. "It's grown since last I was here."

"The youngsters do the heavy work, but I know what my friends need. Nectar flowers, the right leaves for baby food...some folks believe that butterflies carry souls departed on their wings." Mrs. Carmody went on to name some of the butterflies they'd likely see, and the flowers each preferred the most. Inara and Zoe relaxed and enjoyed their tranquil surroundings while listening to their host explain her love's labor.

After a moment of easy silence, the old lady turned to Zoe. "Take your young fellow into the orchard tonight. Night under a moon is good for a woman." Mrs. Carmody's voice grew warmer. "My Neil and I started our first child in this garden one starry night."

Zoe and Inara exchanged a contemplative look. _What must it feel like_, Inara asked herself. _A lifetime of love...  
_  
"It's almost ten years since he got away. I feel closer to him here. I've got a little while yet to wait." Mrs. Carmody traced the curve of a nodding flower with one trembling finger.

"Your home must have been the perfect place to raise a family." Inara ventured.

"There is no perfect place, child. Our first winter here, we had a cold spell so bad Neil had to go out every hour or so and knock the ice off the cattle's muzzles - nearly suffocated from their own frozen breath. No perfect time or circumstance. There's love, wanting to be made flesh and whole. A love you'd sacrifice for. The rest - you lean on each other, give each other comfort, find out what your best is and do accordingly."

Zoe nodded, and Inara saw her friend's eyes travel downstream to where Wash and Fin were gathering flowers.

"We'll start back now, Tug's luncheon will be ready." Mrs. Cole stood,tucked the cushion under her arm, and started down the steps, leaving Inara and Zoe to follow.

--

Mal could hear Kaylee carrying on from all the way down by the lake. The splashing, the jumping off the raft, the races and rematches as she presided over Baby Bob and the batch of cousins who'd arrived shortly after _Serenity_. Gonna be a lot of tears shed getting that one back on the boat, he mused. Leaving Cute Boy Paradise...

He'd traded wins and losses at horseshoes with Tug and Jemmie before losing to Jolly in his last match. Then they'd all moved to the large stone firepit. Tug had started an impressive fire and Jemmie was grilling the sturgeon over it. The men set to work evaporating the tub of beer on ice near the cleaning table, while Jolly headed inside to see if her mother needed any help. Despite the delicious smell of the cooking fish, Jayne was no where to be found. He'd disappeared shortly after hearing Monty's story.

_Ma says it was a terrible night, sky all green and threatening, wind and hail and deafening thunder. I don't remember it, of course. Dead of night, long past midnight, she hears someone a'poundin' the door. Poundin' and poundin' without no letup until she opens. Saw through the window it were a woman, no one she recognized...It were one of the wild women from up in the mountains. Hair down to her waist, Ma says, wild as the storm that brung her. Dressed in skins, soaked through. She had a bundle in her arms. Prevailed on Ma to take the bundle, then limped away into the night, nary a word spoke. The bundle was me, still sticky from my bornin'. Funny thing, Ma says? Neither me, nor the skins wrapped around me had a drop on us. Dry as a preacher's kiss._

Ma was no more than 17, but wouldn't consent to have no other family take me from her. She took care of me herself. Said she'd been chosen for the job. First thing I remember is her marrying my Pa - the man I call Pa, Davey Powell. I must have been 3 at the time, I remember bein' proud not to have to wear my nappies to the service.  
  
Jayne had pulled Mal aside a few minutes later. "Wild women, Mal," he breathed, with an oddly intense look on his face. "I might could track one...or let her track me." He drew a shuddering breath as his gaze scanned the dark line of trees bordering the farthest pasture. "If I'm not back by sunup...hell, just leave me."

There was no arguing the big man out of what was apparently a lifelong dream, so in the end Mal watched Jayne hurry off to _Serenity_ to change clothes and gather his tracking gear.

A few minutes later, Jolly returned with an enormous platter for the sturgeon. She looked different than before - maybe she had done something with her hair, Mal decided. "The table's ready and Fin's back, we'll call everyone when you bring the fish."  
_Fin's back_...Mal found himself wondering if Inara found Monty's brother interesting in any particular way. They'd been gone a few hours; he knew Fin was successful, smart, charming...and Mal would bet money _Fin _hadn't stolen anything, gotten shot or stabbed, or called her a whore. He probably asked her to sit with him at the luncheon; probably told her she looked pretty, and anything else that would make her happy and smiling, not scowling and irritated. He tried to shake the sudden glumness of his thoughts as he retrieved another beer from the tub and followed the boys to the table.

The luncheon table made breakfast look like a paltry morsel. Long wooden tables, arranged under the shade of a trio of massive oak trees, fairly groaned under the weight of the food. Fresh fruit, roasted vegetables garnished with spicy fresh nasturtiums, several different kinds of breads lay in bowls and baskets along each table. Every plate held cheese and honeycomb and large tureens of cold cucumber soup with cream and fresh dill. Wash and Zoe were putting vases of flowers on the last table, grinning insufferably at each other. She was wearing brilliant red nasturtiums twined throughout her curls, Mal saw. Apparently the game consisted of Wash nibbling at one whenever he got close enough.

In just a few minutes the entire clan had gathered and seated themselves to begin the luncheon under the trees. The meal started quietly as everyone tucked in, then people began to relax and converse. Mal, sitting between Jolly and one of the Powell cousins, was listening to Jolly explain a business deal with some merchants in one of the larger cities.

He could also hear bits of chatter around him. Zoe and Wash were laughing over something Jemmie told them: his hand was raised in front of him, as if swearing through his own laughter that whatever he'd said was true. Kaylee was flirting outrageously with Baby Bob, who seemed to think that everything she said was adorable. Mal had heard him say the word four times, and lunch wasn't over yet.

And Inara...she was at the opposite end of the other table, behind him, sitting with Monty's great-grandmother and her new friend Fin. Mal didn't hear her much, just old Mrs. Carmody talking and Fin chiming in and laughing in his genial way. Fin didn't stay the whole time, Mal noticed. He got up after a few minutes, spoke something undoubtedly charming to Inara, and headed off into the house. Jolly saw where Fin was going and got up to follow him, after excusing herself with a smile for Mal. He could hear that Inara continued in conversation with the old lady as people around them began to get up and scatter themselves about the lawn and down the slope to the lake.

Good idea, he thought, grabbing a peach and some shortbread and swinging one leg over the bench. It was her voice that caught his attention and he looked before he thought to stop himself.

"No trouble," was what Mal had heard as Inara leaned down to retrieve something from the grass by the old lady's feet. She swept herself upright again, graceful as a willow, and Mal saw her pass the object into her friend's hand and smile.

The smile was for a blind woman, for an old lady who could not be charmed or manipulated or affected by it in any way. It wasn't the smile of a woman looking for an advantage or a favor. It was simply Inara's dazzling smile, a gift from her beautiful and generous nature, freely given to someone who would never even know she had offered it.  
He felt it trampling through him, heard it as if it were a terrible roaring noise that filled his ears. _Love. _Some voice inside him spoke the unrelenting, merciless, disastrous truth. _It's love. What this is, is love._ _I love her. I love Inara._ _Love her. I love Inara. _He realized that he was moving fast, nearly at a run. _Worse than want, worse than need, worse than burning. _He was most of the way to the lake by now. _I love Inara. Love her. _Sonofabitch. _Do anything for her._ He knew he ought to stop himself or end up soaked with a lot of explaining to do. _Running ain't going to thwart this nohow, genius. _A voice behind him called his name.

_What the hell am I going to do with myself now? Everytime you think you've got your full complement of stupid, Reynolds, you find a way to stuff just a little bit more into your kit. It's like a bad joke, bad and getting worse. _Mal stopped, slumped to his knees against the flat rocks at the lake's edge. He heard himself laughing and it sounded crazy even to his own ears. _'No trouble.' As if that were ever the case - ever. And you just can't help rounding up more for yourself._

He heard unmistakeable footsteps lumbering down the hill behind him. "Fixin' to swim some?" Monty inquired, jostling some raspberries in his shovel-sized hand.

"Apparently, I am." Mal replied. "You coming?" _Gorram stupid fool. Shoulda chucked her off my boat - when? _His breathing felt funny, and he ducked his head to keep Monty from seeing. _First time she made you laugh? First time you heard her singing to herself? First time she got an earful of your nonsense and gave it back in spades? That night in the infirmary? How long has it been? That day on the gorram beach? How long have you been well and truly humped?_

"I'm not a swimming man." Monty shook his head. "It's deeper than it looks."

"Ain't it always?" Mal asked, a little recklessly. His boots were off, shirt untucked - how did that happen? With a mental shrug, he stripped off his shirt, dropped it on the closest rock. Leaned against the sun-warmed stone, shed his trousers and stowed them beside the shirt. Marched into the chilly lake with a grimace. His skin felt hotter than he could ever remember and the cold water stung where it touched him. He took a breath and threw himself forward, diving under the cloud-mirrored surface and into the gray cool below.

The Cousins followed him, of course. They'd barely dried off for lunch, each of them sitting with one leg slung over the bench for a quick getaway - and anything that looked like a game was irresistable to them. It was oddly helpful - Mal didn't have to talk to anyone, the Cousins were contented with getting shoved off the raft as soon as they approached him. "Can't get me!" they'd taunt, dancing maniacally on the wooden planks - Mal didn't know if anyone besides their daddies could tell them apart or even knew how many there were.

"And yet, I do." Mal heaved one of the more wild-eyed Cousins into the lake as the boy gasped, transported with wild joy. Several more were swarming over the sides of the raft. Mal clotheslined the two who'd been unwary enough to stand erect, and waved at them as they toppled over backwards. He heard soggy, high-pitched cheering.

"Pipe down, Cousins." Jolly had taken possession of the ladder. Her wet hair clung to her neck and shoulders. Her skin, and there was a lot of it - she was in her unders, the customary Powell swimming costume - was unlined and golden. Her green eyes were enormous.

"We was playing!"

"It's been near two hours, go nuisance elsewhere." Jolly stretched out on the raft beside where Mal stood. She leaned back and propped herself on her elbows. "Thought you'd have wearied of them before now."

Mal shook his head. "Didn't notice the time passing, really." His eyes followed a dragonfly as it buzzed over them and across the lake.

She looked up at him steadily and waited until she had his eyes on her. "That's supposed to be a good thing."

"Worse ways to spend an afternoon."

"Farm's doing better than ever. We got customers eager to buy everything out of the orchards. Waiting list's growing faster than we can expand."

"Can't ask for better than that." Mal crouched down then sat on the edge of the raft, letting his legs slide into the water. A green-striped fish swam unconcernedly around his feet.

"Ma wants to retire, much as she ever will. Wants to take it easy. I'm nearly running the place now, will entirely before too long."

Mal supposed that news required some response. He looked over his shoulder at where she still lay warming herself in the sun. There were beads of water on her skin. "What about your brothers?"

"Tug and Jemmie have a place of their own. Besides, they'd rather fish than farm. Fin helps out here, but he's got folk from all over these parts wanting his fine carpentry work."

Mal kicked at the fish.

"And Baby Bob talks about taking up with Monty one day."

"It'll keep you busy, I suppose."

"I don't intend to do it alone."

Mal remembered a few thoroughly groomed and anxious-looking young men he'd seen earlier that day, hanging around Eulalie or making conversation with Tug. Suitors, for certain; Jolly had grown from a pretty little girl into the kind of woman no man would overlook, even if she were poor. A prosperous young rancher who looked like she did would have her pick of the most eligible bachelors in the area.

"So you're picking a beau soon?"  
Jolly's voice grew soft. "That's the plan." She was quiet for a moment. "I can imagine no better place to live a life. Peace, freedom, all of this - " her eyes scanned the horizon and grew warm at what she saw. "I've seen it every day and it still amazes me, the beauty of it."

"I know the feeling." Mal's thoughts were far away and although his eyes traveled the same landscape as the woman beside him, what he saw was quite different. Flat green pastureland as limitless as any ocean, the few trees in sight clustered around the house and outbuildings. Long weathered barns under a wide blue sky, cattle and horses grazing the rippling grass. Tough prairie flowers dotting the longer green along the fencerows. Maybe featureless and homely compared to the grandeur of the mountains bordering the Powell homestead, but it had been home.

The wind carried a voice across the water and it reached his ears. Inara. He found her on the front porch, calling back through the screen door to someone still inside. Mal made himelf survey the rest of the yard impassively. Zoe and Wash had found some kind of game set up and were batting a dippy-looking little target back and forth between them with long-handled racquets. Some of the guests were saddling up to go somewhere on horseback - Mal recognized Jemmie among the group. Kaylee and Baby Bob were nowhere in sight. Not surprising - Mal knew his mechanic considered she had a lot of catching up to do, boy-wise, before their next trip into the black.

Inara was making her way toward the lake with Fin and some other guests. Mal decided to take himself elsewhere. Someone stirred behind him and he remembered Jolly.

"Pretty country, no doubt. Think I'll ride out with Jemmie, take in more of it."

Jolly nodded at him and he dropped into the water and headed for shore.


	10. Monty Part 3

Dinner had come and gone - another staggering amount of food and drink for the crowd that seemed to be multiplying by the minute. A few of the guests had brought instruments and were playing together asa crowd gathered around to dance in the cooling air. The sun was still high in the sky but the light had gone soft and the landscape seemed golden and faintly aglow.

Mal saw Wash and Zoe joining the dancers, with Kaylee and Baby Bob trailing behind, seemingly joined at the lips. Inara and Fin were already dancing, twirling around each other with hands raised to the sky. There was a clamor from the dancers for more to join them - apparently for a dance of some import.

Jolly was by his side, taking his hand. "Join the dance, Malcolm. It brings good fortune to the new family."

Mal joined the dance, lined up opposite Jolly, one of perhaps a dozen or more pairs of dancers arrayed in a large circle around Tug and Jemmie's wedding shelter. The fiddle player called out the steps for the newcomers, gradually increasing his tempo. It was an energetic dance, well suited for a climate with cool nights even in the summer. _Bow, curtsy, clasp hands, turn, three quick steps side by side. Circle, change places, clasp hands overhead. Circle, circle, circle again. Bend, rise, come close, circle again. Hands on the lady's waist, hands on the gentleman's shoulders. Ladies jump, men lift your partner, let her fly, hold and turn, let her land. Bow and curtsy, circle again...  
_  
Mal was surprised when the dance went on for a second round, with the circle of ladies moving to the left so that each danced with a new partner. "We dance the circle complete. For a complete life." Jolly smiled winsomely at him as she sketched a graceful curtsy at a nervous-looking young man. He nodded at her as she turned away into the dance. Down the line he could see Kaylee dancing with one of the oldest Cousins and Wash partnered with one of the Powell's neighbors. If he remembered correctly, she was the sister of his current partner.

He nearly trampled the poor girl as the realization hit him that Inara was circling through the dance as well, coming closer to him every time the song began again. _Ta ma de! _he swore to himself beneath his apologetic smile. _How many years of having Purplebellies shooting at your sorry carcass - how many years of wrangling, making deals with the most disreputable hun dans all about the Rim, and one black-haired woman makes you lose your wits? _He caught sight of her, 3 couples away. Maybe she'd get bored and excuse herself from this rustic exercise - surely it couldn't be to her cultured tastes. A man could hope.

Two couples away. Her hair was tumbled around her face in silky, shining waves, making him remember how the wind played with her curls that day on the beach, after she'd lost the enormous hat. He danced with Kaylee, nodding and smiling absently as she chattered away about the perfection of Baby Bob.

He steadied her for the lift, met her merry eyes. "Whoooeee!" Kaylee sang out as she rose into the air. Her sweet face radiated pure delight, and Mal chuckled.

"That your favorite part, Little Kaylee?"  
Kaylee beamed at him, indulging what she evidently considered a silly question. "That's all the girls' favorite part, Cap'n, don't you know?"

One couple away. Had she looked at him? Probably not. Close enough that Mal could see that her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with undisguised pleasure. She didn't need her wrap, as energetic as the dance was, and her skin was slightly aglow with the exertion. He heard her laugh softly, responding to the joy of the dance.

And then it was Inara, standing before him, looking still pink-cheeked and happy, but maybe more self-possessed than he thought she had been. A smile, perfectly genial, as she curtsied in answer to his bow. He extended his hands for her touch and she rested her hands on his upturned palms, watching them as she did. The steps of the dance brought them closer, the quick steps now almost a run as the musicians quickened the tempo. Still holding hands, they circled each other, traded places. Dropped their hands, only to raise and clasp them again overhead. Time seemed nearly to have stopped - he could barely hear the music or the dancers all around them.

Although he held his arms angled toward her, she still had to reach almost on tiptoe to catch hold of his hands. This brought her closer than ever, and she tilted her head back to look up at him as they circled around each other again and again, their hands still joined overhead. Mal wasn't sure when he'd drawn his last breath, with her so close and her eyes so intent on his face. He felt his jaw clenching, had to fight himself not to close his eyes against the onslaught of painful need. She was so close. He made himself hold her gaze as she looked up at him. Her hair smelled like...something, something that made him thirsty. Something he could not afford. They stepped apart, bent down toward each other and rose again, stepping close and circling. Mal felt her hands slide lightly up to his shoulders as he placed both hands on her waist. He could feel the muscles move at her waist, feel her breathing. A tiny smile, oddly bashful-looking, played on her lips.

"Ready?" she whispered through the music as she prepared to jump. Mal managed to nod as he felt her hands firm themselves over his shoulders and she gracefully lifted toward him. He took her weight in his hands as he turned, turned in time with the dancers to his left and right, holding her above him for a moment, feeling her hands move across his shoulders to keep her balance, setting her down lightly. Letting go of her was such a relief he nearly forgot to bow as she curtsied to him, her eyes shining with a demure pleasure. Circling, circling...

She'd leave him. Leave them all, leave _Serenity, _just as surely as she would circle into someone else's arms in another few moments. He could never keep hold of her, and he knew it was all kinds of wrong even to try.

The dance was ending. It was almost time to drop her hands, to bow as she curtsied one last time, to let her go. For the best - it would be a relief to be done with pretending, enduring.

He let her go. There was nothing else to do.

"Sir?" Zoe greeted him a few rounds later. He took her hands and nodded as they started the dance.  
"Quite a diverting affair the Powells got up for us." Mal nodded toward Tug and Jemmie, drinking warm cider under their shelter. "These folks should get hitched more often."

"A fine evening, sir." Zoe paused. "So how is it you're looking like your pumpkin patch got trampled?"

"Me?" Mal protested. "I am...reveling. I been right here, reveling away the entire time."

Zoe was undeterred. "Sir, I've seen you happier with a gun to your head."

"That right?" Woman was too damn perceptive. He needed some stupid people on his crew. Mal thought of Jayne, and revised his last assessment. But at least all the suns in the 'verse would explode in a fiery death ball before Jayne ever asked him about his _feelings_.

"With your _own _gun to your head." Her voice was low as they circled each other.

She obviously didn't have the correct perspective on that particular venture. "That was only that one time, and my shooting arm was sore from - " Mal paused while he considered how to frame that day in their history.

Zoe supplied the details. "Being thrown out of a moving mule, beaten, and threatened with your own gun?"

"Well, yeah." Mal put his hands on Zoe's waist. He lifted, turned, and set her down. "What's your point?"

"Sir, you looked _sprightly_ that day, in comparison to just now." Zoe tilted her head slightly behind her.

"I wasn't - " Mal was at a loss for what to say. He looked at his oldest friend, at their clasped hands. Wondered how, with all his piss-poor luck, he'd avoided losing her. She was...as she always was.

"Whatever comes, sir, we'll face it together."

The dance ended with cheers for Tug and Jemmie, and the dancers settled gratefully into the cool grass to rest. The musicians continued to play softly.

A voice, ethereal and shimmering, reached into the melody and joined the players. Mal saw people stop in their tracks at the sound of it. He heard talking around him cease, except for her name.

"Jolly." Jocelletta Powell was beautiful walking, standing, speaking. Singing, she was enchantment itself. The musicians angled toward her, watching for every breath and cue. Her voice rose and seemed to fill the night. She sang of the blessing of true love, devotion, sharing strength and building a life together. When the song ended, she nodded, a little solemnly, into the silence.

The crowd did not applaud but sat still as if bewitched. After a long moment people began to stir - a few cheered for Tug and Jemmie, or called her name in emotion-choked voices. Jolly waved to them, but left the musicians and headed to where Mal sat with Monty.

"How was that ride?" she asked with a look toward her brother.  
"I'll go see to Ma, Jolly," Monty said as Mal looked up at her. The big smuggler hurried off.

"That was very fine singing, Jolly-girl. Fella could get spoiled round here." Mal grinned. "Spoiled and portly," he added, tilting his head toward the long tables under the oak trees.

"I remember you said that last time you were here." Jolly dropped lightly onto the grass beside him, curling her legs under her skirt. "You could stay." There was still music in her voice.

Something in what she said, beyond the simple words, let Mal understand that what she was offering wasn't business. "Jolly," he began, searching her face while he thought of what he could say.

"Hear me out." She held his eyes calmly. "I know how things ended after the War. Know it pains you still. Look around you, Malcolm. If there's a place for healing, it's here with us. With me." She saw him about to speak, shook her head in a tiny arc to stop him. "I told myself years ago I'd take no man for my own until I could say this to you, and I'm saying it now. Stay with me tonight."

Mal was beyond startled at the woman's offer. How could he tell her what he hoped she'd never know?  
"Jolly. That can't be." That there is no forever home, on any of the turning worlds, that someone can't take away. Mal knew that people looked at him and pretended to themselves that what happened to Shadow, and him, could never happen to them.

"I remember how you were, when you visited us all those years ago. How happy. How brave. Your faith - I've been in love with you since I was a little girl. I'm not a little girl any more, Mal." The air was light and clear all around them. She was very beautiful. It was not enough.

"No, you're not. You're a fine woman who deserves a man with a heart. And I don't have one to give." It was no way to repay her kindness, the kindess of her entire family. Take his place at her side, claim her and this home for his own, without being able to return the love and devotion she was offering. Try not to let it show that every time he took her to bed he was yearning for someone else. Ruin any chance she had at finding happiness with a man who adored her.

They were both quiet for a moment. The musicians were calling to Jolly. She looked at Mal with a sadness behind her even expression. "I'll be in the cherry orchard tonight."

"And I'll be on _Serenity_." He waited for her to walk away from him, back up the hill toward the music and the crowd.

Someone had lit a fire near the lake - the sun was dropping quickly through the purpling sky. Mal saw Zoe and Wash sitting on the flat rocks, their faces turned toward the flames. He moved to join them.

"I'm heading back to the boat. Comm me when you're coming on."

Zoe and Wash exchanged a glance before Zoe answered Mal. "Thought we'd stay on the homestead, sir."  
"In the orchard," Wash added, his eyes glowing with something more than the wine he'd had at dinner. "The Powells have put up hammocks for the guests. Hammocks work like swings," he added.

Mal couldn't decide if his pilot were completely lust-addled, or if he really had that low an opinion of Mal's mechanical understanding. "Fair enough," he replied quickly, hoping to cut off Wash's explanation of the myriad erotic advantages of hammocks and swings. "Let Kaylee and Inara know - "

"Think they're camping out as well, sir," Zoe murmured.

Mal scoffed. "Inara doesn't _camp_, I'd bet my - " His retort died in the air as he considered that Inara might have plans similar to Zoe's and, now that he considered it, Kaylee's. Inara'd been friendly with Fin all day, and Mal knew Monty's brother - Mal was sure Fin would pursue Inara as ardently as he would have done in Fin's place. ****

"I'll see you at the service, then." And Mal headed across the meadow toward the bridge and the path to _Serenity_.

--

"Can I persuade you otherwise?" Fin's hand was warm around Inara's as they sat listening to the musicians. "It's a rare fine night tonight, out under the moon." He smiled encouragingly.

"It's been a lovely day, and I thank you for your offer, but I should return to my shuttle." Inara smiled up at Fin. "Alone," she added gently.

She should have been much more tempted than she was, Inara knew. Her new friend was genial, kind, intelligent, and extremely attractive. She had been watching him all day with the discreet observations Companions were trained to make, and had no doubt he would be an enjoyable lover. In fact, earlier today she had decided to accept the invitation she was sure he'd make. Earlier today, before the dance.

But she felt no pull toward him, now. Not the effervescent attraction Kaylee had reveled in all day with Baby Bob; not the discreet (at least on Zoe's part) erotic charge between Zoe and Wash. He'd done nothing untoward to earn her indifference, but she found herself without desire for him. Why?

_He's not Mal_, replied the voice inside her, the voice that spoke unvarnished truth. Inara was finding that voice more and more of a discomfiture to hear, but she was honest enough with herself to acknowledge the truth of it.

She'd enjoyed the entire dance, the simple joyousness of it, but she'd waited, her heart pattering in her chest, for the wheel to turn and let her dance with Mal. Her anticipation grew stronger with every round - wondering how it would feel to move close to him, join hands with him. To touch his shoulders, feel his hands on her waist, feel him lift her across the air. And although he'd looked unexpectedly distracted for much of their dance, Inara couldn't stop thinking about him. She had no desire, tonight, for the touch of any man who wasn't Mal.

Inara set off across the meadow, increasing her pace as she noticed how quickly the sun was setting. Zoe had been right, the air was cooling quickly. Inara was grateful for the rose shawl she now pulled closer around her shoulders as she picked her way around some large stones.

Looking up again to check for the bridge, she saw Mal approaching the bridge from a slightly different angle. "Mal," she called.

Mal looked alarmed for a brief moment, then stopped and waited for her on the path near the bridge. "Thought you'd be out in the orchard tonight."

Inara wondered what he meant. She'd hardly seen him today, he could scarcely presume that she...well, this was _Mal_. "I like my own bed," she explained. "What about you?"

His face was serious. "Got my special blanket in my bunk."

Inara looked toward the horizon. The sun was almost dropping out of the sky, the shadows growing longer by the moment. She'd seen Mal throughout the day - seen Monty's young sister seek him out with obvious interest more than once. Not that she'd been _watching_ Malcolm Reynolds, she reassured herself. Inara supposed Mal considered it bad form to take to bed with his friend's sister, although she was clearly of legal age to make such decisions without her family's oversight.

They started to walk slowly, side by side on the path. As they approached the bridge, Mal offered his arm and waited for Inara to wrap her hand around it.

Inara smiled at him for his consideration. "I'm sure I'll be fine, but I do appreciate your concern."

"I know _you'll_ be fine, that's why I want a grip on you." Mal kept his face serious as he explained his strategy. "Light on your feet as you are, you're a good bet for keeping me out of the drink." He nodded to himself as they proceeded toward the bridge.

They crossed the bridge without calamity and strolled through the farthest meadow toward _Serenity_. The sun had sunk most of the way into the horizon and the colors of the sky were brilliant above the trees. The first stars were appearing at the top of the sky's dome, and in the grass below their feet the white flowers glowed in the fading light.

inara felt herself softening, responding to the beauty around and above her as well as to the man at her side and privately corrected herself for her folly. _It doesn't change anything_, she thought, as her mind touched the memory of a boat ride under a jeweled sky. Touched the night and then, with lingering sorrow, the morning after.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" She could hear the music start again from far behind them.

"Head out pretty quick after the ceremony. Monty'll have that part explained to his kin. Wash has set a course for Gallo's last known location, and we'll see if there's any intel on him moving his base as we approach." He glanced at her quickly, then turned to the path again as he shrugged. "Get back what he took, shouldn't take long. Have you back on the job right quick."

"I would appreciate that."

They had reached _Serenity_. Mal opened the door and let Inara through. She expected him to follow her, but he stood in the doorway looking out behind him for a long moment. His eyes dropped to the floor he stood on; Inara saw him take a breath and pull the door closed. The noise echoed through the cool, still air of the cargo bay. Mal switched on some floor level lights.

"I never imagined this particular ship so quiet," Inara remarked.

Mal nodded as he walked by her on his way to the stairs. "If it's all the same, I"m turning in. Ceremony's at dawn. I'll comm you at 4. Good night." He started up the stairs.

"Good night."

--  
Mal dropped the last few rungs to his bunk abruptly, impatient to be alone with the thoughts that had pitched his mind into an uproar for the entire day. But once he got there, Mal found himself frustratingly blank-brained. He wasn't surprised. What kind of solution had he expected to be able to devise, given the colossal mess he'd made for himself? If there were any way out of a love so hopeless as to be laughable, someone in the 'verse would have thought of it by now. There would be generally known strategies. He sank into the lone chair and breathed a few times as if gathering himself, making ready for some onslaught.

He wondered with more than a little fascinated dread what it would feel like, letting his guard down around this particular topic. Unbending, here while he was alone, looking right at the ugly truth, opting out of pretense.

What words? He mumbled her name to his own folded hands, scarcely moving his lips. "Inara." Gave in to the sudden need to close his eyes while he said it. "Inara."

Why couldn't he go back to the way it was, to yesterday when she was distracting and alluring and tempting as the Devil's best girl, but he hadn't yet fallen? When there was some kind of no man's land between his heart and her presence?

"Inara." No more than a whisper.

What would it be like, to tell her the truth? Mal tried imagining another afternoon that didn't feature him damn near running away from her as fast as he could go. Taking her hand, leading her away from the table and under the trees.

_"I got something to say to you, Inara."_

The mocking challenge faded from her beautiful, fathomless eyes as she saw the seriousness of his expression. Her gaze fell to their hands, intertwined for the first time and when she met his eyes again, Mal saw unmistakeable, sweet desire.  
"Son of a BITCH!" It wouldn't work - she'd never walk calmly by his side without a dozen questions and her own brand of elegantly phrased mockery. Mal cleared that scenario from his mind.

He'd go to her in her shuttle - he'd even knock.

Terrible idea. Either she'd be on the Cortex with someone he'd need to shoot, or the shock of him acting mature and mannerly would make her suspicious.

Had he known earlier, he might have made better use of their time on the beach together. He might have formulated a plan that didn't involve...throwing her off of him like some kind of schoolboy afraid of girl germs.

_Inara wasn't closing her eyes, was watching him closely, first his eyes and then his mouth, looking for all the world like a woman who wanted kissing. "Mal?" she whispered._

"There was a wave," he explained as he pulled her slightly closer.

"Oh," she responded in a breathy voice, flexing her fingers slightly against his neck and shoulders and blushing so rapidly he could see it by moonlight. He felt the shiver run through her body, pressed as it was against him.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, I'm with you." 

She would **never** say that.

Mal found that he was pacing the confines of his bunk. Their history was definitely working against him, even in a fantasy scenario. It was his gorram dream, but Imaginary Inara was more frustrating and confounding than most real people could ever hope to be.

If they were somehow both to suffer amnesia - an otherwise harmless drug, maybe, or not-too serious crash related head injury for each of them...that might work.

_"Who am I? Who are you?" her face betrayed the depth of her worry, but even in her fear she reached for his strength and reassurance. He wished he had answers for her. As it was, he only had one._

"I don't know who you are. I don't know who I am." She stepped willingly forward as he pulled her closer, into his arms. "I only know I love you."  
  
Mal shook his head in disgust. He'd been hit on the head often enough to have the thought of it ruin any revelation, even in fantasy. Head injuries usually led to throwing up. Not romantic.

And they argued too gorram much. All the time. He couldn't seem to stop himself, couldn't help saying the things that would rile her up. For her part, she could never leave well enough alone.

It would have to be...maybe a situation where they couldn't talk to each other.

_Hiding out, silence absolutely necessary, pressed together into close quarters for hours, nothing to do but face the attraction that would grow between them, the desire and the reason behind it._

**No**. Hiding out only meant someone wanted to kill him, which put a damper on the situation. Hiding out with her would mean that someone wanted to kill her, or maybe wanted to hurt her just to make things more generally unpleasant while they killed him. Mal scowled, angry with his fantasy self for failing to keep her out of danger in the first place. Him, Inara, armed bad guys - always the standoff and the threats and the tiresome, inevitable bragging about putting hands on "his" woman. A smile came unbidden as he remembered the last thug unlucky enough to say that about Zoe. She had actually made the man cry, weep tears of pain and naked desperation before that caper played out.

No hiding out, but what if they were on a job together somehow, a rich take, but safe; too rich to pass up but she had to accompany him; and her cover required that she couldn't argue with him, couldn't sigh and retort and roll her eyes in that maddening way...

_""Captain Reynolds," she fairly purred at him. He was smiling at her and catching the admiring glance she hadn't repressed as he strode toward her. He'd be dressed up proper, she in some princess dress he'd arranged to have made for her as a surprise - the palest blue and silver, fancy enough to turn her head and make her sigh in pleasure. Low cut._

"_**Mrs.**__ Reynolds." He offered his arm as they entered the room, preparing to dance and drink and mingle with the other formally-dressed guests at this exclusive soiree. The hours passed in an intoxicating whirl, holding her as they danced, feeling the warmth of her eyes shining up at him, solicitously attending to her every need..._

Caught up in each other's spell, neither had seen the storm clouds gathering and covering the skyline, blotting out the stars.

In this fantasy, am I too addled to check the weather report? Freak storm, he answered, growing impatient with himself. Whatever gorram planet we're on has a volatile climate.  
_  
They had got away with the take but were still too far from the shuttle when the storm struck. An ice storm, lashing at both of them mercilessly. Inara was soon overcome - he scooped her into his arms and cradled her against his body for warmth as he braved the cutting ice, battling to get them to safety. Her arms clung around him and she buried her face in his neck as she trembled, nearly insensate with the cold._

Through the trees - where the hell _was_ this planet, anyway _- he happened to catch the outline of a building. Pulling her closer, he dashed up the path to what proved to be an unoccupied mansion. Inara was swooning, but not quite so delirious that she did not appreciate his skill at overcoming the locks and security system to get them inside.  
Murmuring to her to hold on, he found a massive stone fireplace in one of the first rooms. He quickly lit a fire but her condition was very bad - the ice clung to her dress and hair, soaking her in freezing layers. He hurried to the bed, yanking the layers of blankets off the bed and dragging them to the fireside. He enveloped her violently shivering body, becoming alarmed as he saw exactly how wet and cold she was._

She breathed his name so faintly. "Mal..."

"Warm as tea and toast in a minute, darlin'."

"Call me...Mrs..." her lips parted invitingly but she was so terribly cold.

"We have to get you out of these wet clothes."

"I...can't..." her badly chilled fingers moved helplessly over the silvery ties that criss-crossed the low-cut bodice.

He set about defeating all the arcane and mysterious clasps on the princess dress. He wrapped her in the blankets as he worked, taking care to preserve her modesty although she could not. It was impossible to avoid seeing everything, and though the few glimpses of her lush body clad only in exquisitely lacy underthings sent his desire to a fever pitch, he treated her with gentlemanly delicacy.

She was free of the icy dress - he'd removed her tiny slippers and drawn off the sheer, wet stockings that had covered most of her legs. Then he'd held her, wrapped in the blankets and the circle of his arms, in front of the fire until her shivering stopped and she knew herself once again.

She pushed back the blankets to free her arms and reach for him, her midnight eyes flashing in alarm when she realized he was much colder than she.

"Take this off," she insisted, pulling weakly at his wet shirt.

"Shhh, don't you worry about me." He stopped her hand with his own. It rested over his heart.

"Mal...you risked your life to save me...why? I'm such a pain in the ass!"

He caressed her face tenderly. "Yes, you are. But I love you."

Mal realized he was looking around for something to throw. Counterproductive, he didn't own anything that he didn't need. It was just so gorram frustrating to find himself in such a predicament. He'd already embarrassed himself with his imaginings, embarrassed and depressed himself as well. No way he could ever tell her, could ever let her see. Not being who he was, she being who she was. He fairly throttled the rungs of his ladder on the way back out of his bunk.

--

She had her kit; her needles, any color of thread she could possibly need; scissors, a seam ripper, hemming chalk, an array of thimbles - and nothing whatsoever to mend.

Inara had been on her way to bed, just checked Cortex messages out of a moment's idle whim. Chrysanthe. Indefensibly radiant, even to the eyes of her oldest friend. Inara returned the wave, letting Chrys and Radamus make it official.

Then it seemed that sleep was not something she would achieve any time soon. Thinking of how Chrys reveled in the joy of her news, there were too many feelings at odds inside her heart. Too many questions she never thought she'd lack an answer for. A family...a baby. So, the sewing kit. But even after a second, a third check, there was nothing in her entire stupid wardrobe that needed mending.

Inara remembered a warning of Kaylee's, the week before. "Don't slide your hand all the way in, this here part." She'd pointed to the web between her thumb and forefinger as Inara reached for an oven mitt. "It's worn through." Inara had asked Kaylee to pass her another, but even the best of the kitchen's stash was in sorry shape. "Cap'n don't use 'em," Kaylee had explained. "I think he prefers to burn his fingers and cuss."

So she found herself at the galley table, presiding over an array of triaged oven mitts and kitchen linens. There was a substantial amount of work to be done and plenty to kep her busy until her thoughts calmed and she could sleep.

She heard footsteps approach, stop when he got close enough to see her. "Figured you'd be abed by now," Mal commented, drawing closer to investigate her project.

"I suppose I'm not as sleepy as I thought." Inara drew a sturdy needle through a quilted mitt and pulled the thread taut before beginning the next stitch.

"You setting up shop? I split a pair of my pants last week." Mal gestured with his thumb, over his shoulder and back in the direction of his bunk.

"Imagine that." Inara kept her eyes on his as she stabbed the oven mitt decisively. "No, I don't intend to take up mending on a regular basis." She hesitated for a moment. "I got some good news tonight, and it made me - ."

"Business?" He approached the table, his eyes on her work.

"Pardon me?" She pulled another stitch taut as she watched him seat himself in the chair opposite her.

"Is it ...business related? Your good news? Somethin' with the Guild or a - client?" Mal had appropriated a stack of towels Inara had just sorted, and was idly flapping them against one leg.

Inara watched her needle emerge from the thick fabric. "No, it's - my friends Chrysanthe and Radamus. The couple who married recently?"

"Yeah, the humble fella with his own flying ice planet." When she didn't respond, Mal continued. "They havin' another fancy shindig or somesuch?"

"A baby."

Inara was intent on her sewing during the conversation, but she apparently didn't miss the exhaled noise of surprise Mal made in reaction to her last, very softly spoken words. She looked at him with what he knew to be her practiced look of tranquility.

"Would you care to translate that snort into a recognizable human utterance?"

Mal raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Nothin', I'm just - that was fast."

"Chrys has always wanted children." Inara doubled the knot at the end of the mended seam, and snipped the thread decisively.

Mal smiled slightly. "Imagine that's rare, in her line of work."

Inara set her mending down, smoothed the fabric with one graceful hand. "Why would you imagine that?"

"Well." Mal nearly coughed in disbelief at having to explain the obvious, but there was something in him that wouldn't let it go. "Seems like a Companion's top priority would be to keep herself all perfect and" his hands waved vaguely in the air around him, "desirable."

"A client who's simply in the market for _perfect and desirable _can commission an erotic arts bot. The best ones are incredibly realistic. " Her tone was airy but the way she echoed Mal's words made them sound shallow. Foolish.

Wait. "How d'you know? About the bots?"

A raised eyebrow over a disturbingly direct gaze was all the anwer he got.

Hold on, there was an argument here, and she wasn't getting out of it by mentioning sex bots. "You can't tell me a Companion is gonna let herself get all - " Mal found himself waving his hands around again. He stopped himself. "All - "

"Worn out? Unattractive? Matronly?" Somehow she kept her voice sweet even while it was dripping scorn.

"Well, yeah!"

"You're merely betraying your own shallow ideas." Inara snapped her sewing kit shut and rose from her chair. She turned her back on Mal as she marched to the galley and stowed the mended linens.  
"Hold on, that's not what I think! Tell me the Guild don't have some kind of parameters for -"

"The Guild has a very comprehensive plan for accomodating those Companions that choose motherhood. The level of care, for both mother and child, is second to none -"

"I bet they're accomodatin' as hell, long as you can keep your - "

She whirled to face him, her silky robe dancing around her curves. "What do you think this body is for, Mal?"

_Ta ma de_, she'd be the death of him! He had enough desperate thoughts on any given day, hell, at any given moment, about the woman before him without her prompting him on the subject. _Days_ it would take him, days or_ weeks _and he'd spend them gladly, finding out exactly how she responded, what she craved...Craved. His own traitorous mind flashed an image of Inara, lush and goldenskinned, blooming with child...probably craving cherries or lychee or whatever was most nigh impossible to come by in the Black...

And it would never be him. Could never be. Another image, and he compelled himself to see it in full: Inara again, torturously beautiful, her body rounded with the baby within. Smiling and serene. Taking her ease at home, some rich man's elegant home, secure and content. A faceless, doting husband, spoiling her, amusing her, seeing to her comfort. A life like her friend had. Like she ought to have. Happy.

Mal pushed the realization from his mind - didn't bear dwelling on - and repeated his earlier protest. "What you said - that ain't what I think. A woman in the family way..." He gave up defending himself. Let her think what she damn well pleased about him and what he wanted. Never going to be a factor in their arrangement anyway.

She was still watching him, the challenge plain on her face.

"I know what it ain't for," Mal muttered, almost to himself. "Commerce. Trade. Offering up a substitute for the real thing, to them what can afford it and don't mind an imitation."

"An imitation? Of what?"

"Of love." The words were out before he'd considered them. He almost winced at the emotion in his own voice. Decided he'd better brazen it out. "You conversant with love?" It wasn't fair, Mal knew it wasn't, knew it today more than ever. Still.

Inara shook her head in resigned bitterness."You assume I'm not, since I'm -"

He was out of patience. "Why are you here, Inara?"

"I'm here because you have an enormous man to rescue, and you didn't mind upsetting my plans."

"No, Inara. Why are you here? Tonight - on _Serenity_? Thought you might indulge in some of the more f_estive_ revelries this evening. Or do you have no inclination when there ain't coin exchanged? Is that it? Are you really that cold?"

"Of all the hypocritical, presumptuous, - you are the most incredibly vulgar - first you heap scorn on me for _having_ sex, now you find fault with me because I chose not to -" Inara glared at him, then laughed for a short, bitter moment. There was an edge to her voice, and something more, when she continued. "I might ask you the same question, _Malcolm_. Don't tell me you didn't have any other option tonight, I noticed a certain young woman who was anything but...cold."

A tiny part of him wondered how it was she'd seen what had passed between him and Jolly today. Must be another Companion power, he decided. Keeping track of everyone's - inclinations. Everyone's weaknesses.

"Girl's got some ideas - she knew me from before the -" Mal's voice was suddenly calm. "I got the same name and face as the man she fancies, but that's all. I got little, and not the precious kind of little, to offer her or any woman. Don't care to be an interloper."

"I see." Inara's voice had gone soft, a little grave. She paused, glanced toward the galley. "Would you care for some tea? I was considering making some just now."

"And sympathy?" Mal smiled a little wryly.

"Well," Inara considered. "We're the only ones of the crew passing this night in abstinence - we might allow ourselves something enjoyable."

"So they're all enjoying a night," Mal smiled broadly, "of sweaty rapture under the stars and we're indulging in _tea_? That's all kinds of pathetic, darlin'." He should know. Carrying on as he had. He'd found something out today, something he should have known a long time ago. Not a comfortable discovery but he'd live - with or without her he'd live.

Inara was watching him very intently. Her voice was soft. "What did you have in mind?"

Mal strode purposefully into the kitchen and started rummaging around in compartments Inara hadn't known the existence of. A minute later, he emerged with a sizeable bottle, corked at the top and slightly dusty. He checked his steps and returned quickly to the galley for two glasses, which he waggled at Inara.

"Sweet plum wine!" He turned the bottle so that she could inspect the label. A pair of cartoon plums, made up to look like round-faced, tipsy geishas, festooned its surface. They grinned encouragingly at Inara.

"Mal, sweet plum wine is an exercise in sugary bad judgement for a 14-year-old. Why do you - "

"Mechanic I had for a spell before little Kaylee - he left it. His strategy didn't run to courting the more...discerning ladies."

"Ah." Inara had heard all about the young man with the tattoos and the...other tattoos.  
"So, what does this particular _vintage_ have to recommend it?"

"Alcohol, darlin'." Mal poured them each a dark, only marginally translucent glassful."What'll we drink to?"

"To Tug and Jemmie," Inara replied after a moment's thought.

"Well said." And after a soft clink of their glasses, they both drank.

"That was...memorable," Mal observed, rubbing at something sticky on his upper lip.

"The worst part is having to wait for it to ooze down the side of the goblet," Inara chuckled with a not-altogether-feigned shudder.

"I'd say the worst part's the taste, myself." Mal eyed the bottle with a grin. "But we've toasted the good fortune of my friends, only right to raise a glass to yours." He refilled both glasses, raised his across the table to Inara. "To...Chrysanthe and Radamus and their little blessing-on-the-way."

"They both drank. "Truly horrifying, this stuff." Mal held the bottle up to the light, trying to see how much was left.

Inara nodded. "I have some rice wine in my - "

"Don't even try it, woman," Mal warned, mock indignant. "I am not some man," he shook his head for emphasis "of loose morals to be plied with alcohol and exploited for your dark desires." Drinking in her shuttle on an empty ship, maybe side by side on that soft little couch, no dented wooden table between them - not a good idea, Mal judged. Then again, neither was hanging around with her all night. But she didn't seem to be mad at him at this exact moment, a rare state of affairs, and he found he liked it.

"Ah, you've thwarted me - more's the pity." Inara shrugged airily. "But if it reassures you as to the safety of your manly virtue, I could go get the wine and return here to neutral territory."

"No, no, I'm hosting this fine soiree, I'll provide the spirits." Mal returned to the galley and retrieved another bottle and fresh glasses.

He pushed the plum wine to the far end of the table. "Whiskey?"

Inara nodded and accepted the glass. "Why did we start with the sweet plum wine?"

Mal shrugged. "Didn't know if you liked them sweet, girly - " his explanation trailed off as he watched Inara drain the shot glass, then set it on the table with the utmost delicacy. "Reckon not." He swallowed the whiskey in his glass.

Inara was in possession of the bottle. She beckoned, with one pretty pink finger, and he passed her his empty glass. She passed it back, full, and raised hers toward him.  
"To _Serenity_."

They drank.

"That ain't what I think." Mal found himself explaining some time later, after toasts to the Powells, Kaylee, Zoe and Wash, Jayne and wild women, and the newly mended oven mitts. "I don't think womenfolk are less...when a woman's in the family way, I mean, she can still be all kinds of...'

"Chrysanthe has never looked more beautiful. And Radamus is - so happy." Inara smiled, remembering her friends' faces on the wave. She shook her head with a fond little laugh. "Giddy over it, I think Chrys was actually sitting on his _lap_. As if they had to" Inara made a waving motion inward with both hands, "huddle together to see me on the cortex screen."

Mal stowed the empty whiskey bottle in the galley. "Your friends are quite the pair of lovebirds, as I recall."

Inara nodded, then her eyes danced in amusement at some memory. "Not only _my_ friends, Captain. Your pilot gave me quite an impressive recitation of his hopes for tonight, during our turn at the dance."

Mal remembered his last conversation with Wash. "The hammock?"

"Indeed." Inara smiled with affection at the memory. "And a very thorough catalog of all that is admirable about Zoe."

_Wash hadn't been the esiest man to dance with - he kept trying to catch glimpses of his wife, several partners down the circle. " We didn't have a big wedding like this. But someday...maybe an anniversary party...it'll be a blowout with fireworks and music and dancing and wine and a panda and lots of...finger food...I love watching her eat with her fingers...Have you noticed her fingers? She has the sexiest fingers and she does this thing with her mouth that..." Wash staggered against her as they advanced their steps, side by side. He dropped one of her hands to clutch his brow. "Run-tse duh fwotzoo, I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it."_

They circled around one another, in time to the music. "She's a lucky lady."

"I'm the lucky one, I had a hell of a time getting her to take me seriously. Or take me at all." _Wash's eyes twinkled conspiratorially. "We're staying in the orchard tonight." He was nearly singing in his excitement. "Got our own sweet little canopy set up, with a big hammock inside..." Wash looked down at Inara curiously as she reached for the hands he'd extended above his head.. "Hey, you're not as tall as I thought. Is that some kind of Companion magic? Did you take a class in...Social Tallness?"_

Inara shook her head and laughed a little. "That was not among the course offerings during my years of study, no."

"We're taking some kind of wagon ride through the orchards to where we'll sleep tonight. Chilly night - she's going to need some snuggling. Which leads to canoodling, you know. And me - I'm planning on being at the peak of my manly attractiveness...by lantern-light, under the starry sky...Here we go!" Wash lifted her through the air, setting her down with a little bow.

Inara curtsied in return, circled around him for the next steps of the dance. She squeezed the hands he offered, and smiled at her friend. "It's a good night to be in love."

Wash looked suddenly more alert. "Hey, what about you and Mr. Welcome-to-My-Private-Paradise-and-By-the-Way-I'm-Gorgeous, eh? You can tell me, I won't breathe...well, yes I will. Of course I will. I'm all about the breathing. But c'mon, tell anyway, it'll be fun!" He grinned, all manic encouragement.

"I'm staying on Serenity tonight." Inara offered a simple shrug, a tiny shake of her head in response to Wash's friendly incredulity. Garrulous as he was, she knew he wouldn't push her to explain herself if she seemed reticent. Perhaps she only imagined it, but she thought she saw understanding in the pilot's eyes.

When their dance ended, Inara bade Wash good night. "And give Zoe my best."

"I will," he nodded, grinning, "in between giving her _**my**__...best."_

Inara could hear him chuckling long after he'd greeted his next partner.

"We'd better call it a night, dawn's coming fast," Mal called from the galley. He washed out their whiskey glasses and dried them quickly.

Inara rose and went into the galley with him. "You might like to have some of this tea I'm making."

Mal smiled "Was your momma by any chance frightened by a teapot when she was carrying you?"

"Yes, that's it exactly." Inara giggled a little at his expression. "But this particular tea is quite beneficial at the end of an evening of...indulgence."

"Secret Companion Hangover Tea?"

"Super Secret Companion Hangover Tea," Inara clarified with dignity, retrieving a small packet from her storage compartment. "Its taste is quite...singular, but I can assure you, it is effective."

"Singular?" Mal looked at the dried leaves dubiously. "That doesn't bode well."

"This from the man who opened the evening with wine made from cartoon plums."

Mal watched her fuss over the pot, the cups, the water, until she pressed a cup into his hands. He sniffed at the steam rising from the murky liquid. "You sure you didn't accidentally fetch your Super Secret Companion Poison?"  
Inara blinked and lifted her cup. "Just drink it, Mal."

They drank, and Inara cleaned and dried the pots and cup. "Thank you for keeping me company." She placed the cups on their shelf.

"I'll walk you home before I - turn in," Mal offered. Inara shook her head, started to speak, but he continued. "Never let it be said that I allow intoxicated ladies to roam the ship unescorted and break their necks on my staircase."

Inara retrieved her sewing kit and fell into step beside him, looking amused. "And what about your neck, on the way back down the stairs?"

"My catlike agility has yet to fail me."

"I see."

"It's also the case that I am a paragon of sobriety compared to you, Miss Serra."

"How so?"

"Whiskey's going to affect you more than me." He remembered their dance, lifting her through the air. "You're just a little bitty thing."

"I'm a _thing_? A drunken thing?" Inara sighed. "What a charmer you are, Captain Reynolds."

"I-" They had reached the shuttle door. "Good night, Inara." He had turned to the steps when he heard her voice behind him.

"Mal, wait." He turned to her again, slowly, puzzled. Trying mightily not to entertain any sort of wild conjecture whatsoever.

Saw Inara cross to him, right in front of him, looking sweet and sleepy. One hand came to rest on his shoulder, for the second time that night.

"Good night." Inara was smiling. Smiling at him.

She rose on her toes, another dance. He felt her shining eyes meet his.

And while he stood still, not trusting himself to move at all, maybe not able to move, she touched his cheek, so very softly, with her lips. Inara kissed him. Kissed him, then turned and crossed the threshold into her shuttle alone.


	11. Monty part 4

Inara moved through her shuttle, putting away her sewing kit, storing her gown and her jewelry, bathing her face and skin, dressing for bed. How quickly her desire to fight with Mal had evaporated, in the face of his honesty, in the unspoken sorrow behind it. She wondered if he expected to be alone for the rest of his life. She wondered if he asked himself the same question about her. If someone had asked her, she didn't know what her answer would be.

It had been a pleasant evening, the sweet plum wine notwithstanding, Inara thought as she looked through her wardrobe for something suitable to wear for the morning's ceremony. She pulled out a simply cut red gown and retrieved a cloak to wear against the morning's chill. Inara moved to her jewelry cabinet, intending to choose the pieces she'd wear the next morning. Her eyes fell on a pair of understatedly elegant gold earrings. The birthday present from Janisch. Inara had long considered him her favorite client; he was inarguably a wonderful lover. She realized she couldn't remember the last time he'd crossed her mind. Inara steadfastly refused to contemplate the meaning of that as she slipped into bed.

She glanced at the door. Closed, not locked. She hadn't felt the need - it had been a long time since she felt anything but completely secure on _Serenity_. With Mal. At least with regards to her physical safety. She was entirely sure he would not return to her door, would not make an opportunity of their night alone together on the ship. She wished she weren't so absolutely, completely, and entirely sure.

She'd never encouraged him. Never, not in the slightest. Not him, with all his criticisms and suspicions of her career and her sexual independence. Not Mal, with whom she had a business arrangement that afforded her the freedom she liked and didn't want to jeapordize.

And she'd just seen his response to a woman who had encouraged him. She'd seen his response, and had been made to understand it, in a way that made her grieve for the loneliness and sorrow behind the matter-of-fact statement of his limitations. It was true, she admitted, what he had said: _little, and not the precious kind, to offer any woman_. He had chosen a life that was unpredictable and often dangerous. The man himself was uncompromising, brusque, thoughtless at times or even baldly unpleasant. He had no home beyond the battered cargo ship that carried them, and his sole ambition seemed to be to find work and keep flying. All of this was true, and Inara found she admired Mal for facing the truth so unstintingly. But she hadn't liked to hear him say it.

The kiss - he could hardly have been more surprised than she was herself. What lay behind the impulse? Inara didn't indulge herself in blaming the whiskey they'd shared. And, as drawn to him as she was, she could assure herself that the kiss itself had been completely chaste - no encouragement, no promise of intimacies.

Inara supposed it was a matter of offering, on what must have been a difficult night for Mal, the only thing she could offer - her regard, her trust. Her friendship.

-----------------------

She'd kissed him. He heard the whispered language of her gown, saw the door close behind her as she left him on the landing. Where she'd kissed him.  
The gesture had been completely proper. No lingering touch, no sensual invitation, no reference to desire. Entirely decorous and genteel.

What the hell was that about? Mal started crossing through _Serenity_ on the way to his bunk.

A few more drinks and Mal might have felt assured of blaming the whiskey. Some womenfolk get affectionate when they drink. Some menfolk do as well, he mused. But despite his teasing to the contrary, Inara hadn't been terribly inebriated.

They hadn't fought...well, they had. He'd actually been irritated with her for not taking to bed with Fin. For confounding his expectations once again. Why?

_Because it's going to happen_, his own mind responded. _She's going to find someone she likes, someone she's going to choose, choose for more than just a client. Someone's going to make her smile like she smiled at the old lady; win her affection; win her shining heart. And you, with this damnable, pointless love in your heart; you're going to get to watch._

He'd rather she'd just go ahead and get it over with.

But then they weren't fighting. Mal found himself at the ladder to his bunk and descended the rungs as he remembered. They were talking. Laughing. Silly stuff. It had been nice. She hadn't needed to stay - she'd finished her mending project, and he'd seen her getting sleepy, pink cheeks and slow-blinking eyes.

He'd walked her to her shuttle - just wanted a little more time with her, a few more congenial moments to reflect on the next time he wanted to drop her at the closest port or she wanted to push him off the nearest cliff - and she'd kissed him.

He'd had passengers before; a few short-term tenants too. None had kissed him.

She hasn't been just a tenant in a long time, he admitted to himself. What, then? She's not crew...

She's your friend. Unlikely kind of friend for a bad-tempered old Browncoat to have, but there it was. And friends of any stripe or description, Mal mused, were not easy to come by in the Black. He didn't kid himself about how smart he was, but Mal wasn't stupid enough, most days, to scorn an offering of friendship. Life could get mighty empty for them that did.

Zoe didn't kiss him. Kaylee - well. Kaylee kissed everyone. Inara wasn't as kissy as Kaylee. Mal remembered watching her say goodbye to the fancified-looking young man on Persephone. She let him kiss her cheeks, her pretty hands, but she didn't kiss him.

He could try to be a friend to her. He could try, and he could hope that she understood what Zoe had known for a long time.

_You are no longer anyone's idea of a cheersome man. It's you that's the pain in the ass. Always got to have your own way, always mad about something, always yelling about work to be done. Always some bother in your brainpan about...mostly about things that can't be helped and shouldn't be dwelt upon. Hopes that start and end with a second-hand Firefly class cargo ship. No plan for better days ahead, no fond dream of attainable contentment. Keep flying. Try not to die_.

She'd seen it, had more than a nodding acquaintance with his...ways. Been on the receiving end of his mean-tempered mouth more than once. And kissed him just the same. He couldn't conjure why he hadn't managed to make her well and sick of him. She wasn't scared of him, that was for sure. Didn't scare easy, no matter that she looked like some kind of storybook princess.

She'd smelled so good. Like whiskey and perfume, and clean, warm, sleepy woman. Mal inhaled deeply, as if to recreate her essence in the air around him.

Inara was his friend. It was more than he had reason to hope for, and it would need to be enough.

-------------------------

It was bad enough to wake up with the first hangover of her life. Trust Malcolm Reynolds to be in possession of alcohol repulsive enough to defeat what she would from now on privately call Super Secret Companion Hangover Tea. But for him to have some kind of immunity to the wretched effects of the sweet plum wine, for him to bound up the steps to her shuttle, calling her name, those loud boots clanking...gods! Did the man actually mean to whistle all morning?

"Did me a world of good, that tea of yours." Mal smiled as he leaned through the shuttle doors to where Inara was still getting ready. "Are you near to set? We ought to leave soon, the sun's nearly up."

"I'll be just a few moments." Inara winced slightly as she fastened her earrings.

"You look fine to me right now." Mal clapped his hands together, rubbed them vigorously for some unfathomable reason. Oh yes, it made noise. "We don't want to have to run."

Inara opened her closet and retrieved a solar veil. The day promised to be appallingly sunny. "We could take the mule."

"Wouldn't get over the bridge. Besides, the walk'll get your blood pumping." He loomed into the shuttle, his coat rustling as he moved around and...breathed. Inara supposed she couldn't fault him for that, irritating as it was.

She found she needed to move slowly and with more than her usual deliberation - quick movements made her head pound and her insides ripple with nausea. Inara chanced a look at Mal - how could he possibly be so cheerful? He must drink poison on a regular basis, Inara concluded. It was the only possible explanation. She remembered the tacky geisha girl plums on the bottle's label and felt her throat closing as if in defense against the mere thought of sweet plum wine. _Oh, this would not do at all._  
And it was a long walk to the site of the wedding ceremony - a small clearing in the forest behind the homestead. Inara's arms and legs felt weak. Could she contrive a reason for Mal to carry her? That would be pleasantly restful, she could close her eyes, rest her head against his shoulder; he certainly...No.

Merciful Mother, what was wrong with her! Was she...sweating? Oh, this is beyond appalling, Inara fumed as she glanced at Mal. What was he reaching for? A ringing sound, silvery and delicate under normal circumstances, assaulted her ears. Mal had found one of Inara's anklets - one of her favorites, actually, a gift from Seneca, hung all around with beautiful little golden bells. _Hring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring_, he circled one finger around and spun the anklet rapidly before catching it against his palm. The respite was beautiful, and far too short. _Hring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring... _

"Thank you." Inara caught the anklet as it traveled a merry orbit around Mal's fingers. She smiled at him. "I've been looking for this." She put it in a drawer.

He looked very handsome this morning. She wondered if that was just to irritate her.

_This is not suitable - get a grip on yourself! You are merely suffering the unpleasant aftereffects of some overindulgence. You'll feel better soon_. Inara remembered the headache remedy she'd had with her breakfast tea. She considered the techniques she might use to improve her disposition - what would a hung over client likely respond to?

_Hours - several lovely hours - in bed. Soft light, perhaps some soothing music, playing very low. An open window, if possible, for a little fresh air. Regular servings of fruit juice, nicely chilled. Soothing words. And, when the recovery process is far enough along, sweetly restorative and thorough love-making. _

_With Mal.  
_  
Merciful Buddha! Had the plum wine disintegrated her brain entirely? Inara was mortified to realize that the object of her pathetically demented fantasy was fiddling with the jade cricket from her side table, making it hop across the couch.

"Mal?" The cricket froze mid-hop.

He returned the figurine to its place with an innocent look. "Got everything you need?"

_Not even close._ "Yes. Shall we?"

----------------------------------

He opened the door that let them out into the silky pre-dawn of the homestead. Hour One of the Friendship Offensive. Mal smiled kindly at Inara as he slammed the door shut behind her, pretending not to see her wince. Couldn't help himself, she looked so adorably wretched, hung over as she obviously was. To give her credit, she wasn't moaning about it.

Then who _was_ moaning?

The noise was too - well - feeble to arouse much alarm, but Mal motioned Inara back to _Serenity's _door as a precaution. He advanced a few paces into the dark, and -

"Mal?"

He recognized the voice. "Jayne?" Mal stooped down to get a better look at his merc, prostrate in the grass near _Serenity's_ hatch. He heard Inara come up beside him.

Jayne squinted. "That you, Mal?" His voice was weak.

"How bad is it?" Mal was turning to send Inara for the infirmary's med kit when Jayne spoke again.

"She - "

"It's just Inara here Jayne."

The big man shook his head and the grass around him quavered.

"She used me Mal." There was a transcendent wonder in his voice. "Used me like a beast of the field."

---------------------------

It had taken some time to get Jayne safely stowed in his bunk, trembling as he was. But soon enough Mal and Inara were on their way to the ceremony. As they crossed the meadows and neared the house they could make out other people moving through the yard, toward wagons and horses.

"Malcolm!" Tug's voice hailed him from out of the darkness. "A favor!"

"I'll oblige you if I can."

"Be one of my Bearers. Be my Traveller."

"I'd be honored." Mal thought about asking for a fast horse for Inara to ride to the ceremony, but he supposed he'd tormented her enough. He waved to her as she climbed into a wagon and leaned very discreetly against the upright plank bracing the side.

---------------------------------

The sight was actually quite stirring. Well-wishers arriving through the thick stands of trees, some walking, some on horseback, a few in wagons similar to the one that had brought her. A circle of people, growing larger as dawn approached. Or, Inara noticed, a near circle. There was a path carefully left bare. It led from under the trees to the middle of the clearing, and people lined it, watching the path expectantly. A few in the crowd were singing, songs that Inara remembered from the night before. A song might rise, fall, then be picked up again elsewhere in the crowd. The dawn was near - the grey light around them all was diminishing, warming to golden peach as the line of light above the trees grew in strength. The scattered, curling clouds above made the sky look like a foamy sea, captured in time as it surged to touch the land.

Someone approached on the path. The crowd began to sing, very softly. Someone had brought a flute, and joined its music with the singers, helping them stay in unison.

Inara saw the two families, Tug's and Jemmie's, make their way along the path. They reached the inside of the circle and spread themselves out into the crowd. Behind them came the wedding shelter, borne by six walkers. Tug and Jemmie themselves; Fin, Baby Bob, a neighbor woman that Inara recognized; and Mal. Each held a thick wooden post, beautifully carved to resemble a tree. The wooden roof-like framework above seemed to be made of individually crafted, wooden oak leaves, polished to a rich gleaming; they looked so vivid and real Inara half expected them to rustle in the breeze.

Someone squeezed her hand.

"Hey, you." It was Kaylee, looking sleepy and wistful.

She found herself watching Mal. Holding, carrying someone else's home. As he always did. For Kaylee, for Wash and Zoe, even for Jayne. For her.

Inara squeezed back. "I think it's starting soon." The dawn had overtaken the night. From out of the crowd came a young man Inara had seen the day before. Moving quickly, his thick brown dreadlocks bouncing against the colorful woven shawl around his shoulders, he climbed the small rise to where Tug and Jemmie and their Bearers had brought the shelter to rest.

"That's Ezra," Kaylee whispered. "Met him yesterday, he was inseminating some of the cows. Not personally, of course," she added after a moment. "Got this big glove, goes all the way up to his shoulder." She tapped her fingers against a spot high on Inara's arm to illustrate.

"And he's the...clergy?"

Kaylee nodded. "Well, Baby Bob says he makes the rounds of the different homesteads for blessings and such, guess it just makes sense for him to carry what's needed along with him. Community pitched in and got him a sweet little hover mule, great for wild land like this."

Ezra turned and addressed the gathering. "Mornin'!" He raised his hand - whether in greeting or to point at the sun as evidence, Inara wasn't sure.

The crowd answered back in the same fashion.

Her eyes found Mal again - had she seen him looking in her direction? The headache remedy had begun to work, and she felt much better, but her thoughts returned again and again to Mal. To the strangeness of their night together, to the fierce, guarded look on his face when she'd kissed him.

She heard Ezra call to the crowd. "What are we here to witness?"

They answered as one voice. "A wedding!"

"Who shall marry?" The young man's grin was nearly as brilliant as the dawn.

"Tug and Jemmie!"

Ezra's voice grew still more resounding, and he turned a slow circle as he addressed the whole community. "It is your duty to bless this new home with your support, to uphold their family as their Bearers keep right the posts of their shelter. Will you stand for them?"

The crowd's voice seemed to grow in strength. "As we do this day!"

Inara watched Mal standing at the post he held. This was the unavoidable truth about Mal - that he still stood for something. A man that refused to ask anything, anymore, of the universe around him, but still he stood for something. So convinced of the indecency of fate and power, of life itself, but so determined to be decent when he could. No power, only the strength of one soul that against all probability and reason refused to give up, compromise, die. She thought about him and felt something new stir in her conciousness.

Ezra spoke to Tug and Jemmie, though his voice was still raised to reach the congregation. "Will you marry your lives, this morning and always?"

The men answered. "We will."

Cheers rang out and Tug and Jemmie moved, alone, into the shelter. They spoke their vows in turn to each other, in voices amplified for their community to hear.

My only love,  
My truest home  
Across the sky  
Under the sun

_Mal has given me a home, a home that allows me freedom without questions. Every time I think I know what to expect, he surprises me. He takes care of all of us, but never seems to expect anyone to do the same for him. He seems to accept that there's no one to give back to him as he gives to us. I wish I could show him differently. Friendship. Comfort. Solace. Healing. Love.  
_  
My heart's own keep  
My soul's one hearth,  
Let me shelter  
Let us not part.  
And she realized her dearest wish would be to stay by his side, over every offered place on any world she could name. Stay by his side. Watch the grief, the loneliness fall away. Show him love, bring him back to life and hope.

Where you travel,  
where you stay  
my love abides in you.

_I love him. Mal. I love Mal. I love him. He's in my heart, in my heart somehow. Mal, with his anger and his emptiness. Mal, isolated, unpredictable. Obnoxious. Thoughtless. Unless he's talking me through an anxious night; brushing off my own hurtful behavior; attending to my safety with a stranger aboard; wrapping his coat around me on an empty beach. _

If you fly, fly back Godspeed,  
If you turn, return to me.

_So dear to me. Mal. Mal? How did this happen? Years of contentment, of genial, amiable relationships with lovely men. I knew men, knew all about men. I had...friends. Intimate...friends. Passion? I was sure I was immune. The perfect Companion. So sure I'd be able to walk my path in tranquility. So sure I was different than every single one of my Sisters before me. So terribly foolish. _

I have no home but you are there,  
My home you shall forever be.

_Sentimental nonsense. It's merely the effect of the wedding._ Inara hadn't finished the thought when she named it a lie, close kin to the lies she'd been telling herself for a long time. _When? How long have I loved...Mal? Loved a man who abhors the life I lead, who doesn't scruple to tell me so._ Inara thought about his blunt and insulting words, hoping to shake her thoughts back to reality. Whore, he'd called her, more than once. And he was wrong. Wrong, rude...and completely uninterested, it seemed, in courting her favor. Inara was far better acquainted with the opposite scenario - a man who'd say anything to ingratiate himself to her, to win her preferment. Hurtful as his words were, Inara grudgingly respected his stubborn honesty.

She knew he wanted her. Knew he wasn't going to dissemble in order to get close to her. At least not emotionally. _No, no manners necessary, just barge into my shuttle and now, apparently, into my heart._ She was irritated to find herself smiling at the thought of him playing with the jade cricket. _This is not a smiling matter. He'd tell me so himself. _A scarlet blush stung her face as she imagined Mal knowing the truth. Smug. There would be gloating. She imagined him stretched out on her couch, a satisfied smile on his face. Or worse, pity. Another vision - his sorrowful face, hands folded together, shoulders slumped in regret. In the same defeat she had seen the night before. She felt overheated, in a quiet panic suddenly, and found herself shivering as though feverish in the cool morning air.  
"Are you wed?" Ezra asked when they had finished.

"We are wed!" Tug and Jemmie joined hands and shouted their answer to their assembled family and friends, and kissed as the crowd roared back its congratulations. A few people, bearing tools, strode forward and began helping the two men dig postholes and settle their shelter into the ground.

The light touch on her hand startled Inara. _Mal?_ _Kaylee._ Kaylee, who had been at her side the entire time. Dear, openhearted Kaylee, who had never known a discreet impulse in her life. Inara hoped she hadn't given her thoughts away somehow. She turned to her friend, forcing her mind back to the world around her.

"Shall I inquire about your evening?" Inara's warm voice was nearly a whisper, intended only for Kaylee. She put her arm around the young mechanic.

"Oh, 'Nara, he's so....he's just..." Kaylee snuggled close to her friend. "It'll be a long time before I can look at a cherry without blushin', that's for sure."

They walked a few paces, following the crowd that had begun to stream toward the homestead. "Thought you'd be out there as well, you and Fin were together 'most all the day." Kaylee raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

Inara shook her head, smiled with practiced tranquility. "We were not fated to be." She knew that Kaylee wouldn't pursue her reasons. Her friend accepted people as they were, one reason Inara loved her so.

She found herself scanning the crowd. Mal was nowhere in sight. Her eyes landed on Wash. He was weeping openly as he walked arm-in-arm with Zoe. Inara meant to look away but found she could not as he raised one of his wife's hands to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss against the skin there. He turned her hand and closed his eyes tightly as he left a second kiss on the graceful stem of her wrist. For all the ardent love in his gesture, it was Zoe's expression that left Inara shaken. Soul-deep love mixed with wonder and, most moving of all, gratitude. Inara remembered the conversation from the day before; memories of a lifetime of love, and she felt certain Zoe was remembering too.

Soon they were at the homestead, saying their goodbyes. Inara had caught a brief glimpse of Mal, striding across the fields toward Serenity. Kaylee had left to say goodbye to Baby Bob, and Inara found herself alone with Fin.

"Glad you made it back in time...the both of you." Fin nodded at the path Mal had taken.

"We weren't...there is nothing..."

"Lass." His smile was kind. "I know."

Inara wasn't used to feeling this exposed. "How...What do you know?"

Fin gathered Inara's hands in his own. "If you had chosen him, and he you, he wouldn't leave your side, any more than I would. He'd be here with you now."  
Inara considered how his hands looked, wrapped around hers. The beautiful day they'd shared. His gentle gallantry. "Thank you." She started out for the path, walking a bit behind Zoe and Wash, back to Serenity.

It was out of the question, of course. There could be no future for her and Mal. Their paths ran together now, but they would part. In pain, in sorrow. The hour was there, waiting for her. Inara knew it as surely as she knew her own name. She imagined looking out across a foggy landscape, seeing it, just a tiny blur in the distance, but there. The hour was there. Impossible to ignore. The hour she'd leave Serenity.

Pain clutched at her as she walked with an unfaltering step over the bridge and into the ship that was her home.


	12. Monty part 5A Preparation

The planning had started as soon as they'd lifted off from the ground of the Powell homestead, and it hadn't abated yet. There were weapons everywhere - on the galley table, on the counters, in the cargo bay. Mal, Monty, Zoe, and Jayne were always huddled together, conferring over some detail. They weren't gathering for mealtimes as they usually did - at least two of the crew were always on the cortex, updating the scattered members of Monty's crew or confirming information as to Gallo's whereabouts.

There was an abundance of detail to be seen to, and Mal planned to see to each one. Didn't welcome surprises cropping up from any quarter. He seated himself on the fussy little couch and waited for Inara to return to her shuttle.

She floated through the doorway and favored him with a serene look. "Good evening Captain, I see you received the invitation I did not send. Make yourself at home." Mal watched her look over the little doodads on her tables and cabinet. She was obviously wondering what he had been screwing around with.

He ignored her sarcasm and her suspicion. "We'll be picking up Monty's boys tomorrow, then heading for Gallo's. We'll pass within shuttle distance of Highgate. You're to get yourself assigned to a client and remain there until we return for you." _Get yourself safe - safe in some rich man's bed, if that's what it takes. Safe and gone.  
_  
"How is it that you're suddenly directing my business affairs?"

Mal shrugged, folded his arms across his chest. "Thought you'd be eager to start generating some revenue."

"I have no established clients on Highgate."

"Surely you've had _invitations_." He couldn't help that his smile was completely without warmth as he nodded toward the curtain that hid her cortex screen. "Put the word out you'll be planetside. Offer an introductory special." Mal paused for a moment until Inara looked back at him. He needed her to be clear on this part. "You'll initiate no communications with Serenity until you get a coded clear signal from one of the crew." He passed her a folded note. Inara took a moment to read the single word.

Inara sighed, clearly trying to be patient with him. "Don't you think that's a little paranoid? I wasn't planning to call and chat about the details of your mission."

"Paranoid? Shall I explain to you, darlin', the likely business transactions a man like Gallo would undertake, were he to find himself with a registered Companion in his custody?" His eyes were on her closely, and he saw in the set of her jaw the rising horror she was trying to conceal. "The things Gallo would do to any of this crew to coerce them into luring you in, if he knew you traveled with us?" He rubbed at the back of his neck to staunch the scalding hot, creeping feeling that had sprung to life there. "Keep yourself...occupied. If you don't hear from Serenity," _It'll mean I'm dead. I hope it was quick. And I hope I got to die thinking about you_. "Assume that you'll need to make other...living arrangements."  
Inara looked down at the paper in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was quietly strained. "Mal, if this Gallo is so dangerous, why are you not contacting the authorities?" Her eyes were enormous, her lips tense against each other, but her question was so naive he wanted to shake her.

"Whom would you suggest we cry to? You think Alliance patrols will care about putting a smuggler like Monty back in the saddle?"

He watched her stand there for a moment, then make a helpless little gesture with her hands as she turned away. The paper was still in her hand, crumpled now. He heard her draw a sharp breath. "I thought a job like this would be out of your depth."

"What do you mean?"

Her voice was so soft. "Killing."

"Well...it ain't." I'm not an admirable man. Not a gentleman. Can't even protect you proper. Got you shaking and scared in your own home. Killing. Had some foolishness in my head that you might never know it about me, why I hoped it so is too dumb to fathom. "Wash'll have the particulars you need as to when we'll be in range. Plan to go by midafternoon." He rose from the couch and left her where she stood.

----------------------

"Heard about the big fun?" Wash was smiling, but his voice was brittle. Each word sounded like it might shatter in the air.

Inara nodded. "I've accepted a few appointments on Highgate, I wanted to go over the course with you."

Wash tapped a few keys and pulled up a map. A few more keystrokes, and a few blinking points appeared. "Here's where we are now." Wash jabbed a finger at a small yellow light, then trailed across to a green spot nearby. "Here's where we pick up Monty's merry band. And there," he pointed faintly at a red dot on a small moon, "there's the lowlife crook whose loot we're robbing." He spun his chair away from the monitor. "Or, you could label that the spot where we all draw our last painful breaths and turn into sticky red carcasses, whichever one you prefer."

"Surely Mal - "

"Oh yes! Mal!" Wash's eyes were wild, and he gave a gasping little laugh. "Mal's been most reassuring about the circumstances under which he's taking us all into mortal combat, attacking a camp full of armed thugs. Most reassuring...and loud. The screaming is what I appreciate most. The glowering, the looming come close, but for me? the screaming wins it by a nose."

She felt suddenly cold with fear. "Do you think they have a chance?"  
Wash pursed his lips for a moment, his eyes hooded and seemingly looking at nothing, then shrugged. "It's a good plan. Making the most of our advantages, such as they are. We've gotten some good intel from folks nearby who don't like what Gallo is bringing to their block parties. Intel's not as helpful as dozens of fighters with massive amounts of firepower, but folks'll only stick their neck out so far. Unless it's a war buddy, then there's all kinds of sticking. A real plenitude of...sticking." He slapped the flat of his hand sharply against the console. "Ow!" He shook the hand, wincing as he looked at Inara. She saw the anger dissolve away and the worry take hold. Something more, though. Wash looked at her with his own unmatched kindness and an understanding for which she felt so grateful. "Pointless gestures have kind of a sting to them, don't they?"

She reached out, smoothed her fingers over the back of his hand and sighed. "Yes, they do."

Walking back to her shuttle, Inara considered some pointless gestures of her own. Because that's what anything between them would be tonight or tomorrow: pointless. She imagined going to him in his bunk, late into the sleep cycle, an embrace in the dark. Just one whispered offering: _Before you have to go_...And he'd be insulted that she thought he wasn't coming back, offended at her lack of confidence in his plan. He'd likely make some wretched joke about how too much time had passed since her last job. She thought of finding him in the morning, anywhere, forestalling for just a moment his blunt insistence that she fly away and not look back. _Come back to me. I love you_. He'd probably get himself shot just to be difficult.

She knew he took...chances with some of the jobs he accepted, some of the people he dealt with. Knew it, tried not to let her mind follow the implications, despite the times she'd seen him bloodied and bruised in the infirmary. Despite the pistols he and Zoe wore on almost every job, the knife she knew he carried. How had she decided on this path of willful obliviousness? Why had it taken a job like this, Mal all but ordering her off the ship, for her to see his life for what it was?

Inara attempted to review the Guild's profiles for the new clients she had accepted, but found her concentration woefully fractured. How could she stay on Serenity? How could she remain here, in love with a man who, by his own admission, made his way in the world as a violent criminal? How could she go? Not only for Mal - she had unexpectedly made a home here. It was small, and undeniably shabby, but so much more precious to her than her elegant suite at House Madrassa. Freedom. And friends...more than friends. Kaylee was as dear to her as any Sister Companion. Wash's unguarded warmth, Zoe's calm acceptance...Inara even acknowledged a certain creeping affection for Jayne. Yes. She'd spent too much time alone, waiting helplessly for news, if she was contemplating her emotional ties to _Jayne_.

-------------------------

Mal knew he shouldn't have assumed any part of his plan would go smooth - that just didn't seem to be in the cards for him. But this was hard to swallow, especially given the grim satisfaction on Wash's face when he relayed the news. His pilot had been less than happy with him throughout the planning process; Mal had dealt with that according to his usual strategy, by ignoring the other man. But this he could not ignore.  
"Might want to rethink shooing Inara off to Highgate." The pilot stood before him, head cocked to the side, one hand on the belt of his flight suit.

Mal hoped to scare him off with his "I don't have gorram time for this" glower, but Wash didn't budge. Mal drew an irritated breath and closed his eyes, preparing for bad news. "Why's that?"

"Route to Highgate's gotten popular lately. With Reavers." Wash waited for Mal to finish cursing. "Heard it confirmed by a few of our more colorful intel sources." Wash kept himself apprised of his role in the caper, but didn't hide his distaste for the job.

Mal knew he had taken to checking and rechecking every scrap of intel with a focus bordering on obsession. He also knew Wash had probably just saved Inara from a horrifying fate, had just saved him from having been the one that sent her to it. "Much obliged," he managed as he nodded to his pilot. A cold, bilious feeling was ascending through him, threatening to take over.

Wash fixed him with an irritated, too-knowing look. "Remember that first mate of yours? Just so happens, she's the love of _my_ life. See to it she makes the return trip with you, we'll call it even."

Mal nodded again but he was already turning away, heading for _her_ shuttle, too tired to manage a bluster about the one word Wash had emphasized.

She was going to be mad. Worse, she was going to be scared. He truly, truly hated scaring her, never felt like more of a subhuman bastard than when he had to watch her face turn to the brave and collected expression she put on when she figured things were getting bad. Maybe if he got her mad enough, she would forget about being scared. Maybe he wouldn't have to stand there this time with his arms folded across his chest to keep from pulling her to him and swearing to her that nothing in the 'verse would touch her while he lived.

Because it would be a lie. A gorram stupid lie. How many men and women, young, beautiful and courageous, had he prayed to be able to protect under the merciless sky on Hera? How many times had he seen a comrade, a friend, press a faithful kiss to a letter home, a letter promising a safe return. I love you too much to die, so many had written. But it hadn't been so. People died. That was one of the few things Mal put his grim faith in. When things got bad enough, love and faith and courage and decency didn't keep blood and breath in a body, didn't keep a cherished friend, the prettiest girl in town, or someone's only son from becoming just another carcass.

He grew cold as he realized just exactly how much he would give up to keep her safe, what dishonorable, ugly bargain he might make. And he'd almost succeeded, Mal thought bitterly, if he could properly call it succeeding, sending the woman he'd stupidly decided to love, into a stranger's bed. He'd almost got her worlds away in a place where her name and the status of her trade would insulate her from what he had to do. But he hadn't succeeded, and he was angrier at her than he'd ever been for making him so afraid.

"Change of plans." He barked the words at her back as soon as he'd crossed the threshold into her shuttle. "You ain't going to Highgate."

"Is this your idea of a joke? I never imagined I'd have to tolerate someone so - does it amuse you to trifle with my business?"

"Heard tell of Reavers, twixt here and there. And it's Wash the news come from, not me. And no, he didn't seem to be amused."

Inara glanced for a moment in the direction of the shuttle's windows, then seemed to collect her thoughts as she watched his face. "Have they attacked Highgate itself?"

Mal shrugged. "You might pray they'll content themselves eating the men who can't afford you."

Inara stared at him for a long unblinking moment, then collected herself. Her expression when she did made it obvious she considered this remark, and by extension the man who made it, beneath contempt. She turned her back to Mal and crossed the shuttle to her cortex screen.

"We're going ahead with the job regardless. Soon as I can figure where to stick you, I'll let you know. For the time being, best stay out of the way."

"I intend to - only please let me know if your _way_ includes a return trip through my door, so I can scurry away in fear at the approach of the ugly-minded criminal with the breathtakingly offensive suggestions."

---------------

Inara kept mostly to her shuttle for the next span of time, time for more planning and more weapons, picking up Monty's crew and dissecting the latest bits of intel. Kaylee visited a few times, clearly trying not to be nervous about her part in the attack on Gallo's compound. The pirate apparently put a landlock on all of the spacecraft he hijacked, and, Kaylee explained, she'd be the quickest at disabling it. Kaylee would go in with Jayne after Mal, Zoe, and the rest of the ground assault crew had neutralized Gallo's team. Neutralized - Kaylee sounded so young and scared when she said it, it made Inara want to cry.

"I'll have an armored vest, most of us do."

"Most of you?"

Kaylee looked miserable. "Cap'n sold his, Zoe says, when he was gettin' the money together to buy _Serenity_. Never been a time since that he's had the money that we haven't needed...parts and such. And they aren't cheap." She chewed her lip anxiously and her face flushed. "Monty says he has a spare one - small -" she looked down at her own compact frame with a kind of horror "from someone who...used'ta fly with them."  
It made a grim kind of sense to Inara. Without the ship, she was certain Mal didn't consider his life worth protecting.

And, angry as she was at him, Inara couldn't help what she knew. Years of study of psychology, body language, facial expression, nonverbal communication. Months of living with the man. She knew he was worried for his crew. Knew he was desperate that nothing happen to them. Knew he would never forgive himself if anything did.

_Stop. Stop making excuses for him, for his miserable disposition. His thoughtless, hurtful words. Stop wishing you could share the burden, make anything easier for him somehow, because you can't_.

------------------------

She met him at the door. Perfectly turned out as always, looking ready to step into some elegant, cultured salon, to settle gracefully into the best seat, an afternoon matinee at some fancy opera house. Mal wondered why, not for the first time.

"You going somewhere?"

Inara ignored the question, turned a beatific smile on him. "Is this the part where you alleviate your worry about the job by saying reprehensible things to me? Because my time is limited this morning, I have a full schedule of praying my friends don't die - that is, when I'm not busy being a money-hungry whore. Maybe next week? Or, you could write down your terrible insults and leave me free to peruse them at my leisure."

He felt his jaw clenching. He had known there'd be a reckoning for what he'd said, and privately, he admired her for not putting up with his black mood. He wouldn't have blamed Inara for slapping the tar out of him - he had it coming, sure as Sunday. But the fact remained that the upcoming job was more of a risk than he'd taken since she'd come aboard. If Monty weren't part of the equation, he'd have backed out of any plan to attack Gallo's fast as you please. But it was Monty, and between them they might have just enough in the way of resources and tricks to pull it off. They might.

"Got something to show you." He waited until she moved to the side to cross through her living quarters and to the shuttle's tiny cockpit. Struck a few keys to activate the navigation system and waited while she drew herself beside him and sat in the pilot's seat.

"There's a cluster of small moons - uninhabited - around where the fight'll be. No one goes through there, it's easier to make the circuit around. You'll take the shuttle and hide here." Mal tapped the screen to indicate the shadow side of one of the moons near the center of the cluster. "If you don't hear from us, " he widened the scope of the map in front of them, "there are some Alliance patrol ships that make regular sweeps here." He moved the finger to indicate an elliptical path not far from them. "You'll hail the Alliance and explain your transport ship was destroyed. They'll make sure you get where you need to go safely."

When she didn't respond, he looked up. She was watching him with a detached calm. "What?"  
"No helpful remarks about the opportunities inherent in traveling on an Alliance vessel staffed with lonely soldiers? Let them _console _me in my grief," She used that honeyed voice, made the word sound unbelievably salacious, "and profit from it meanwhile?"

He shook his head. "Grief?" His voice was subdued, rough in his throat.

"You're asking me to hide behind a rock and wonder if the people I've lived with for months, if my _friends_, are alive or dead?"

"Alive, we'll be back to get you by day's end. Dead...you'll be no help for it. And you'll be safe." Tried not to sound like he was yelling. "You'll be safe. It's the best I can do, Inara." Tried not to sound like he was pleading. He was on his feet and headed for the door. What good could it do to stay?

------------------

_Was that an apology? A Malapology? Is the fact that he wasn't exactly yelling and he used all 5 letters of my name supposed to make that clear?_ Inara sighed to herself. _The man I love_.

Inara knew they were to pick up Monty's crew in a few hours, then go directly to the...whatever he called it. The job. She wasn't about to lie to herself - she'd been brooding most of the day, since her last conversation wtih Mal. Apparently, the mood was contagious. She'd seen Kaylee in the galley for the noon meal - neither one of them had eaten much, and their usual effortless conversation had faltered. Wash, she understood, was on the bridge. She'd seen Zoe heading back and forth, presumably between her husband and Mal. Jayne had been in his bunk for most of the day, Kaylee had remarked.

Monty might have been sleeping, he sat in complete stillness on the battered sofa, but his eyes tracked intently back and forth across a landscape or battlefield only he could see. He'd nodded to her as she passed, then resumed his meditation. She crossed the common area and found the hallway that led to the crew's bunks.

"Let me stay." She hadn't admitted to herself where she was going until her hands pushed open the hatch to Mal's bunk. His eyes had been on her all the way down the ladder from where he'd come to stand just next to it on the floor, but he hadn't said a word.

The way he raised his eyebrows was cautious and almost...polite, Inara thought, as though he didn't want to misconstrue what she'd said. She heard him draw a breath, but he did not speak. He was still watching her, still not moving except for the one hand that had risen and gripped a rung of the ladder.

The question came after several long and silent moments. "Let you - Why'd you come here, Inara?" His voice had gone to the depths of its register, and Inara quelled a shiver at the sound of it.

"I wanted to find you alone. To ask you to hear me out. I don't want to go." She'd already had this conversation, a dozen variations of it with him in her imagination. Trying to find the correct approach, the strategy most likely to unbend him. She'd dismissed them all in turn. Each play had its advantages, its weaknesses, but she couldn't bear the thought of adding to the falseness between them, of the distastefulness of trying to manipulate a man she respected and loved.

Mal exhaled a brief laugh as he nodded, his eyes on the floor. The hand gripping the ladder drummed against a metal rung. "It'll dim my prospects of renting a shuttle again if I get my tenant killed."

"Then don't."

"If they take _Serenity_ - "

"You think Kaylee will be in any better stead than I'd be if that were to happen? I can fly, Mal. I know some basic medical interventions. And this is my home. Let me stay."

"You're going into battle with us now? Ain't quite what you signed on for."

"What about Kaylee? What about Wash? Did they sign on for deadly combat in the service of your war loyalties and the chance to pillage what a dead man has stolen? No, Mal, they're here out of love." Skirting perilously close to the truth, now. But she couldn't lose this fight. She rushed ahead with the plea she'd worried over all day. With the truth. "I'll have the shuttle prepared to go - all systems at the ready. If...the worst happens, I'll take Kaylee with me - Kaylee and Jayne." They both knew Wash would not go. "She can scramble the navsat signals the shuttle transmits, to thwart anyone pursuing us. We'll head straight for that Alliance patrol sweep transmitting a distress call on every official frequency, I promise. But let me stay until I know."

Intense Chinese swearing. "I wanted you -"

"Would you do it? In my place? Fly away from your friends, from your home, without even trying to help? Would you have me lose you...all of you, and spend the rest of my life wondering if I might somehow have been able to help?" When had she ever done this? Stood before a man asking so nakedly for what she needed? In her heart was a desperate prayer that he forget everything he supposed he knew about her and see her. See her heart and find something he recognized in his own.

And he did see. She knew when she met his eyes. It caught her there, the truth between them, and she would never be able to say how long she stood there, allowing herself the dangerous luxury of being known, _known_ by the man she loved. And she felt the truth pulling at her, a thing inside her with a life of its own, wanting love and light and clean air. Truth demanding truth. _I love you. Come back to me._ She cast her eyes down, shuttered away the truth she could not let him see, and steeled herself not to tremble while she waited.

"It's my boat, I'm within my rights to order you off, drop you, bag and baggage, at the closest port." Inara could feel his eyes on her. "But I ain't in the business of tellin' folks what to do." She raised her eyes at the sheer preposterousness of the statement, and Mal amended his claim. "Well, I am, but...you're a woman grown, I expect you've pondered the risks." She nodded just once as her mind touched a small decorative case hidden in one of the shuttle's cabinets.

Mal nodded. "I'll let Wash know. You'll get your assignment from him. And first sign things are going pear-shaped on the ground, you get little Kaylee in the shuttle and you go. We'll call you back if we...have need."

_Come back to me. I love you_. This could not be allowed. "Mal?" He'd looked tired before, so tired, but seemed animated with a strange intensity now. What could she say? Inara thought about taking his hands in hers, rested them on the ladder instead. She couldn't make things any better than they were. "Don't die."

His off-kilter grin would have been irresistible if it weren't so sad. "If you insist."

---------------

He could have watched her all the way as she made her way back up his ladder and into the hall. But it wouldn't have been enough. How could it be even close to enough? So he'd turned his back after agreeing to her plainly spoken request. To both of them.

He hadn't liked the plan, himself. Her, hiding alone in the shuttle...for all that it was an untraveled area of the quadrant, there were too many variables. He mightn't be the only one to have noticed that hiding place. And when she came to him...he had hoped, he had feared for a moment that against all he knew of her she was the sentimental type and had some notion of leaving him with a sweet remembrance to take into battle. It had been on his tongue to ask as much, the habitual sniping between them, when the shock of her little shoes on his ladder had begun to wear off. But he hadn't, because although he considered this shamefully weak, he wanted whatever she might have to give. He would have accepted and just planned on despising himself after. _Let me stay_, she had said, _I wanted to find you alone_, and for a few mind-hammering moments he had imagined them putting every painful thing aside, imagined just holding her...okay, not _just_ holding her. Entire thing would have been a disaster because he would have gotten stupid, would have said something stupid, either something...stupid to offend and disappoint her, or the stupid truth of his feelings for her. _You have been a more shining thing than any I'd hoped for in what's left of this sorry life of mine. I'm sorry I'm such a __**hun dan **__most of the time, I'd be better if I knew how. I love you._ And then he'd have to endure the gentle pity in her eyes, the same kind regret she'd undoubtedly offered every man who'd ever run out of whatever kind of strength it took to withstand her. Not as though he hadn't been warned. Her extraordinary heart.

He had nothing to offer her. Not words sweet and true, not promises, not gifts, not security or a real home. In the end, all he could grant her this day was a chance to stand by the friends she'd grown to love and maybe die with them. He hoped he didn't have to die knowing his failure was sending her to an ugly fate.

Wash's terse voice on the comm let him know they were ready for the rendezvous with Monty's crew. Mal started up the ladder, leaving the room cold and empty behind him.

They were already gone. Monty had left, alone, to meet Gallo in a counterfeit submission to the pirate's demands. Taking coin his crew, and Mal, had scraped together, coin they planned to retrieve with interest. The rest of the operation depended on Monty's command of the situation, on the reliability of the tiny transmitter he'd stuffed into the butt of the cigar he chomped on, and on Monty's never-matched prowess at hand-to-hand combat. No one expected a man of his size to be so fast, to land blows so unerringly and with such devastating impact. Everyone else waited for his signal.

Mal, Zoe, and Monty's crew had parked Shuttle 2 in a byzantine tangle of brush a cautious distance from Gallo's compound, and had advanced on foot, taking concealed positions around the perimeter.

Wash waited alone on the bridge; Inara had gone to see to Kaylee. Again. The ship's mechanic was stationed in the cargo bay to assist Jayne, who was strapped in at the edge of the ship's belly hatch. He would drop explosive charges and provide airborne cover fire, once Mal called _Serenity_ into the fight.

Jayne had nodded, unusually soberly when apprised of the change in plans, Wash remembered. "I can hold 'em 'til Kaylee gets up to I-nara." He never could pronounce her name correctly. Kaylee and Inara had stood very closely together, eyes wide and mouths set.

Wash had asked Zoe about it, later that night.

"_Why the change?"_

"Captain wouldn't say." Her only reply. Which was _**not**__ the same as __**I don't know**__. Not when Zoe and Mal were concerned. Not even close._

Wash waited. With Zoe, these things took time. She stirred next to him. "He wouldn't have asked her."

No, Wash thought bitterly. Not her. Then, even more bitterly: he didn't have to ask _**you**__, either, my lady._

"I expect she asked him."

"It's better if we're not spread out - us here, her on the moon..."

"Yeah, that's what she was thinking. Battle tactics." Zoe kissed him, and kissed him again, the question in her eyes. He gave her the same answer he always did. Always.  
  
Inara reappeared on the bridge. Her face wore a worried, half-apologetic expression Wash found so strange on her. He watched her gaze move carefully over the instrument panel, across the communication screens.

"There's nothing to do yet. Nothing but the super-nifty waiting and worrying. Later on there'll be sweating!"

"They're going to kill those people."

"Let's hope so."

"Have you ever...?"  
"Me? No, no, no, no, no."

"Me either."

Wash had to smile at that. "Well that's a relief." He watched Inara until she met his eyes. "It's not a party for them - not what they enjoy. And they won't...kill anyone they don't have to. "

Inara nodded. "Jayne shooed me out of the cargo bay. Told me my fretting was disturbing his calm. Imagine that - Jayne needs to tell me I'm in the way."

_"If I ain't behind Kaylee comin' up them stairs, don't you tarry for me. Keep your wits about you. If I'm on my way, you'll hear me."_

"I - " Words seemed not to be coming. She rested her hand on Jayne's, the one that was resting on some enormous weapon.

"She knows my...ways, made friends with me anyway. Only one here seemed to think I was worth it. Don't mean to let her get kilt if I got better options."

For several reasons, Inara didn't quite know what to say. Jayne spared her any more contemplating.

"Best get on up to the bridge now. It won't be much longer."  
  
Wash laughed a little. "It's a good day to be Jayne." He became serious again. "And he doesn't, either. Enjoy killing. Mal wouldn't tolerate anyone who does."

----------------------------

Kaylee had been half-relieved when Jayne gently ordered Inara from the cargo bay. They had already hugged, told each other to be careful. Kaylee's hair was smoothed up proper, all the nervous fussing Inara had done with it. _Likely the prettiest girl in the firefight_, she thought as she stifled a panicky giggle.

She looked over at Jayne, who had checked and rechecked each strap of the harness holding him at the edge of _Serenity's_ belly hatch. He wore an oddly jaunty belt of grenades, and his pockets bulged with pointy-looking things. He was chewing.

"Nice enormous weapon, Jayne."

The chuckle shook his muscular body. "I get that a lot."

Kaylee tried to scoff, but she found herself laughing a little. "You know what I meant."

"I know I'm on the boat with two of the finest women I know. I plan on saving you both, letting you thank me later." He leered comically as he nodded.  
Kaylee felt worry flash through her again. "What you said to 'Nara..."

"I meant it. Don't tarry." Jayne's eyes narrowed as he tried to clarify his position. "Ain't no use me goin' down swingin' if it don't get you well away. I'll be a pissed-off ghost if that happens."

Kaylee nodded, Jayne shrugged. The cargo bay seemed full of silence.

"You got the receiver for Monty's transmitter?"

Kaylee tapped a pocket on her pants.

"You stay close to me on the ground. No lookin' around for parts, or friends...or parts of friends neither. Time for that after the landlock is disabled."

_Parts of friends?_ Kaylee felt her throat thickening.

"Got to keep your head right. You just pay attention to me, I'll take care of everything else. But in case of any unexpected excitement, here." Jayne extended one bulky arm. The pistol looked small in his hand, but distressingly big when Kaylee took it. Cold, heavy, humorless. Shining, unfriendly.

She looked at Jayne, the pistol still flat across her palm.

"Most likely won't have to use it. Ever even shot one?"

Kaylee shook her head, thinking incongruously of how smoothly her hair fell around her neck. All Inara's fussing. She heard him sigh, mutter something to himself. He beckoned her closer.

"This here's the safety." Jayne pointed at, then moved a small switch on the left side of the handgrip. "Keep it on while we're en route. Most likely won't need to handle the piece at all. Just a precaution, girl. In case I..."

"I know. Wish you'd quit talkin' about gettin' shot."

"Well, that ain't the plan, And I ain't been shot in a good long while. I'm the prudent type around them with weaponry. But it pays to be outfitted proper. And you'll need to know how to use it, if I'm not in the picture to shoot the needful."

Jayne continued his tutorial. "When I switch it off, this dot lights up red and shiny. Means it's armed." He demonstrated, and a red light gleamed out, tiny and menacing. Kaylee nodded anxiously, and Jayne flipped the switch again. The light went out. "Safety's on, light's out, it's safe for handlin'."

"Switch off the safety and...shoot?" Kaylee rubbed her fingers against the fur on her teddy bear patch.

"Little more to it than that. You got to arm the pistol for the first shot. Watch." Jayne positioned his hands on the pistol, then checked with his eyes to see that he had Kaylee's attention. He pointed to the top of the gun's barrel. "This is the slide. You hold the slide by these here grip ridges" Jayne put his fingers in place to demonstrate "and you pull it back until you hear a click." The noise sounded thunderous. Kaylee felt sweat prickle at her skin. "After you hear the click, release the slide." He did, and Kaylee watched it snap forward. "She's all set. You pull the trigger and shoot." Jayne flicked the safety back on. "It's loaded now, but safety's on so it's...safe."

"Set for me to shoot some fellas?" She shook her head at Jayne, feeling more panicked than before. "I don't even know what to shoot at!"

Jayne patted his own firm chest, then ran his hand up and down. "Aim for the torso. Don't be fancy and try aiming for the head or nothin'. If you get a hit here, chances are you'll hit something important." He pulled her hand toward him, and gently laid the pistol across it. "Let me see you try it." His voice was soft but unequivocal.

Kaylee was strangely certain, in that moment, that Jayne had done exactly this before. She took a deep breath, trying to shed the anxiety crawling over her consciousness. Took a moment to recall his instructions, then flicked the safety off, initiating the sequence he had shown. Repeated many of his same words back to him, in a voice she knew must sound like a nervous mumble. She heeded his corrections with a brief nod, and tried again, remembering more this time. The grip still felt cold.

They continued in this way for the minutes they had to fill, practicing, quietly focusing on the simple drill at hand and not the grotesque implications of their preparations. After he was satisfied that Kaylee knew the sequence, Jayne gave her a magazine with extra bullets. Her face showed fresh worry even before he explained what it was.

"For reloading." Jayne went through the sequence quickly and smoothly, explaining each step, his eyes more on her than on what his hands were doing.

"You show me. Do what I did. Remember what I said to do." And he watched her, watched how she needed fewer corrections this time, watched her stow the magazine in her pocket without comment.

"You're a nice man."

"Am not."

"Take good care of me."

"Ain't no strain takin' care of you, little Kaylee. But that don't make me a nice man. Plain chance, nothing but, I'm workin' for Mal 'stead of Gallo or someone just like him."

"You wouldn't - " Kaylee remembered the Captain visiting her in the engine room, the scary things he'd seen fit to say about keeping her head down, about running to Inara and flying away if the job went bad. Mentioning her momma and daddy, what it would do to them to learn of her fate. How he wouldn't have her on his conscience, how he had enough to fret about without having to doubt she knew how to duck and run. "You wouldn't do them things the Captain says Gallo and his...boys've done."

"Done more than a few of them, girl. Done what's kept the coin in my pockets. I ain't a nice man." Jayne turned from her to the enormous weapon he cradled, its metal gleaming and spotless under the lights. He ran his fingers deftly over every line of it, seeming to read it with his touch.

Kaylee judged the conversation was over. She patted the unfamiliar weight of the gun in her pocket, then headed to the cabinet that held the charges. Only a matter of minutes now.


	13. Monty Part 5B Attack

They had two jobs. One, attack the perimeter well enough to cause a serious breach, maybe take out a man or two without exposing themselves unreasonably. Two, do a bad enough job that Gallo's boys would notice and come running, leaving Monty with better odds for what he did. Best to look like some unrelated trouble, preferably local. If Gallo got suspicious and killed Monty in the middle of the transaction, well, Monty wouldn't be the first blood on Gallo's hands.

Monty's team had taken care of that. A few of them had hung around, laying low but stirring up trouble in town against a few of Gallo's thugs in the horrifying, filthy gin joint they favored. Recruited allies amongst the thickest and touchiest of the locals, who needed scant encouragement to bear a grudge against interloping pirates with more coin and better access to the supply of drink and hireable women. It hadn't taken much to steal a coat, a hat, learn to mimic the locals' rustic accent for the benefit of those scoping out the first scuffle or listening on the comms.

Zoe checked her mare's leg, her vest, her grenades, her scope, her comm. She could almost hear Wash frowning on the other end of it. Not that he'd say anything. Once the job got underway, he was entirely focused on making sure it came out right. As right as a job like this could be.

Pilfering stolen goods. Making profit from what Gallo had taken off men more unfortunate, with fewer friends and allies than Monty. There was no question of doing otherwise. Just leave the goods, the next pack of scavengers happening by would be the only ones to benefit. And _Serenity_ didn't have the means to flit around the quadrant purposing to deliver all that Gallo took back to the original owners. Monty and Mal were taking the risks, the goods were theirs.

Someone's eyes were on her. Mal. Zoe knew he was tight wound about this, in a hurry for it to be over. Sweet Kaylee on the ground in this place because of him, Inara not good and gone like he wanted. There was an abundance of potential here, for good or ill. And they'd see which, soon enough.

As close as they were, Zoe sometimes felt like there was a glass between them. Her, blessedly inside. Him, out in the cold, isolated, defiant, daring anyone to ask him if he even noticed. She'd found Wash, and the two of them had found a way to each other. For that, she was grateful every day. And she knew Mal was too. He was not the kind of friend to begrudge her happiness. They'd both known too many who'd never get the chance. She was sure Mal numbered himself among them. Like his heart was a thing he couldn't see himself making use of anymore, like something rattling pointlessly around in the bottom of some dented foot locker. Too dirty and broken to give away.

Mal needed her. Wash needed her. She loved them both. She couldn't put them both first. It was impossible. But it was the only way. There was no going around that, so Zoe Alleyne Washburne simply went through it.

She heard shouts and cursing from nearby, as one of Monty's men grappled with the patrolling thug he'd overtaken. He let his voice, with the local accent he'd mimicked, leak over the comm for a few moments before smashing it, just enough that Gallo's boys would think they knew who'd come calling. Already, she could see movement around the slapped-together buildings of the compound.

It was starting.

The first of Gallo's boys had hustled up to the grappling, pulling at Monty's first mate Juneau, hauling him around by an arm. Shaking his head, thinking to chastise the man as he swung. "Shoulda left it alone, boy," the man sermonized, smirking as he saw Juneau take in the sight of several other men streaming out of the biggest building, hot to join the fun. Fella didn't realize, Juneau was happier about those big numbers than he himself was. More out here meant fewer inside with Monty.

It nearly made Zoe smile, thinking about Monty with an armed guard on him. Perfectly good plan on the part of the guard, unless they underestimated Monty. Unless they watched his shambling walk, his weary eyes, the vast bulk of him and judged that if he made a move, they'd see it coming. That he'd be sluggish or predictable.  
Juneau brought the fight her way, in accordance with what they'd planned. Zoe waded in, right behind Mal, dealing damage but not too much - it wouldn't do to attract notice. She heard trampling feet, dodged a blow from behind, and kept listening. They needed the last arrivals to report back to Gallo that the situation was well in hand, that they weren't anyone of consequence.

-------------------

The lovely quality common to exceptionally stupid thugs, Mal reflected, was their impervious-to-facts confidence. One of Gallo's boys, one of the most impresively hairy, had just commed back to his boss that they were tarrin' some hicks and would be back before their bacon got cold. That was the message that would keep Monty safe. Hairy didn't, just plain wouldn't notice that he and Zoe, Juneau and the others weren't tiring as inexperienced, hungover locals ought to do in a fight. As the minutes passed, Zoe's punches were landing to better effect; the boys Portmann was knocking down were staying down longer. Juneau and Lankford hadn't even so much as broken a sweat.

It was Mal's job to continue slugging away - no weapons yet - amiably whittling down the numbers while waiting for Monty's signal. The signal that meant Gallo had waddled away with the coin they'd pooled for the putative ransom, and that Monty had dealt with the guards. They'd gathered enough intel to realize the pirate wouldn't be trusting the purse, or the access codes to the strongbox, to any of his goons.

No weapons yet - they didn't want to draw any more attention than they could handle, and the appearance of a pistol or two would surely tarnish Hairy's shiny estimate of his chances in the melee. Zoe and Mal had decided that sticks didn't count, and had stashed a few behind larger tufts of weeds to retrieve later, apparent weapons of opportunity. Mal was looking forward to hitting his current opponent with a stick, if for no other reason than to earn the guy's full attention. The man's stolid indifference to the beating he was taking, well, it bordered on rude. Maybe not deliberate though, Mal reasoned, leaning down and staggering artfully toward the stick - fella might have some kind of medical affliction that made him act like some kind of animated clay man. He was almost curious enough to ask.

"Mal." Inara? Her voice in his ear shook him enough that Clay Man landed a solid punch, sent Mal truly staggering across the dirt. "Monty's activated the signal." He thumped Clay Man with the stick as the man approached, dull-eyed as ever - did he not even _want _to duck? - and let his glance find Zoe. The line of her shoulders, her entire posture was different now, Mal could see - more intent on wrapping up the fight. She'd heard Inara's message as well.

It was time. Wash would be getting Serenity in the air, flying low over the compound so Jayne could drop charges on the auxiliary buildings and shoot anyone who looked like a problem. The remainder of Monty's crew would be attacking from other points on the perimeter. Gallo would hole up at the first sign of trouble, once he sussed out that his pet guards had been Montified. He'd be armed, though, and the kind trouble they couldn't let be. Mal and Monty didn't plan on giving him the opportunity to chase after them, one day down the line.

Mal took aim at Clay Man, better aim than he'd spared thus far. Gave another thump, this one sincere and to the base of Clay Man's squarish skull. The man went down, hardly less animated than he'd been before. Zoe, Juneau, Portmann, Lankford - they all set about finishing the job with new, vicious efficiency, mindful of the passing seconds and the work still to do.

---------------

_Inara might as well not have bothered fixing this hair_, Kaylee thought as she worked the controls for Serenity's belly hatch and a dusty, unsubsiding wind blew in through the narrow slit she'd opened. They were near enough to the compound now that Kaylee could see fences and buildings, movement on the ground that must be people. She tried to make her eyes skip over them, not stop to touch a familiar silhouette for a moment's relief.

People were going to die. That was their business this morning, shooting and smashing the bodies of strangers until there was no one left to resist their claim to Monty's ship. And to anything else they chose. Kaylee wondered if the wind would be loud enough that she wouldn't hear what she'd been imagining dying people might sound like. Wouldn't be windy on the ground, though, and she might have to walk right close...

No point thinking such a way, she chided herself, trying to clamp down on her increasingly horrifying imaginings. They were all doing as needed, and she'd have Jayne with her. The Captain wouldn't call her down until...

The Captain would do what needed doing to get the job finished. Would spare her what he could. She'd just have to cope with the rest.

She became aware that Jayne was hollering through the comm system to Wash, relaying his preferences for getting into position. Kaylee stepped back from the hatch controls and crossed to where the charges were secured. Jayne was watching her through his goggles and when she looked at him, he nodded.

She had to keep her eyes on him. He'd need her to pass more charges, and if, despite the narrow opening she'd made in the belly hatch, Jayne got hit he'd need her to...

Kaylee was suddenly grateful she'd had no appetite for breakfast that morning. She watched Jayne lean forward, muttering a stream of orders and curses to Wash through the comm. He did something with the charge in his hands, and let it drop out into the sky.

The wind was not loud enough to drown out the boom that followed a few seconds later. Jayne's posture changed slightly and he reached for the shining gun.

"Lower." Kaylee heard it, she could read Jayne's lips as he said it. He was taking aim with the gun.

--------------

They were crouched low, running when they could, weapons out now. _Serenity_ had passed over the camp moments before, and was coming around. Mal had heard some ground fire, apparently directed at his boat. Ineffective, not surprising for a panicked first effort but, he mused grimly, he'd be surprised if they couldn't find more appropriate anti-aircraft weaponry among everything Gallo had stolen.

They'd picked this particular approach because of the uneven terrain, which would give them some cover as they got close to the buildings. Not as much cover as the men shooting at them. Mal spoke into his comm, describing the nearest shed to Jayne.

"Cain't see it yet. Wash?"

There was a pause.

"Bronze paint on the roof?" Inara. "We'll be there in about 30 seconds."

"Wash?" Mal really wanted _her_ out of his head.

Another pause.

Inara again. "He's...humming." She sounded nervous.

"Got it." Jayne's words were clipped. Mal and his team dropped to the ground and waited, eyes trained upward, to see the charge drop onto the shed. A few seconds elapsed, they heard a cluster of thudding sounds, and the walls smacked desultorily against the ground, toppling the corrugated roof onto its side. "What next?"  
Mal described the next target, a bigger shack, the only building on the perimeter between his team and the rest of Monty's men.

"A quaint little place..." His pilot was doing the odd, perplexing thing he sometimes did when he flew. Well, if Mal had to choose between talking sense and flying right, Wash could keep on babbling his heart out.

"I saw it." Apparently, Inara felt the need to translate from Wash into English. "Wash is coming about, we should be there within a minute."

They advanced a few dozen paces, quickly, then crouched into a slight gully. They were close enough to hear shouts and slamming doors.

"Wash?" Zoe's voice was calm.

"What do you want for lunch, honey? I'm not hungry yet, but I'll be ready in an hour, give or take. Grilled cheese?" His voice took on a coaxing, sing-song quality. "Cut on the diagonal, extra tasty that way..."

Mal watched as _Serenity_ approached, slower this time, gunfire spitting from its belly in the wake of the explosion on the ground.

"Keep well away from the tan lean-to by the shipyard." Conspicuously weatherproof, their intel told them it was the location of Gallo's landlock computer. They couldn't risk setting off some kind of autodestruct.

Jayne grunted his understanding.

"And don't linger on the sweeps, I don't fancy you getting my boat shot out of the sky." Mal and Zoe exchanged a look and headed for the building where they'd planned to meet Monty.

-----------------

"He ain't here." Mal stepped over the guards, limp as last week's socks where they lay, heads still nearly touching, on the floor. Zoe saw him smile. He always did love Monty's work.

"Think he went after Gallo?" Going solo weren't the plan. But Monty got whimsical at times.

Mal shrugged at this, and they headed for the doorway, knowing they would find a trail leading to Monty.

Before they stepped out, Mal spoke into his comm. "We're within the perimeter now. Best open up that bay, make sure Jayne can see who to shoot. Anyone who ain't us. Still got some details to attend on."

They crossed the threshold and saw a body slumped against the wall of the building. A streak of blood ran down the wall in a rusting ellipse from eye level to just above the man's head.

"That's Monty, attacking a man with his own hideout."

They waited for _Serenity_ to cross above them, heard the screaming as the incoming charge became visible.

It went on for a while like this, playing Monty's particular version of connect the dots while trying not to get shot or blown up. It was telling, most of the boys were creeping about solo - not too keen to join forces. Still scrambling for advantage, position within Gallo's cutthroat operation. That suited Zoe fine - they were easier to shoot one at a time. One group of thugs had thought to surprise them, probably hoping to earn their boss's special notice. They'd earned Jayne's, and then Mal's special notice instead. Too bad for them, Zoe thought. The smartest ones were already well away.

Zoe caught sight of Monty's crew, united now, and sketched a brief wave. They were combing the area for lurkers, for Monty, and for Gallo himself.

Dragging dead bodies into one of the sheds for their fellow thugs to find and see to, those that'd be waking up eventually. Lankford and Juneau loped off, no doubt to round up the living remainders of Gallo's crew, put them where they couldn't cause trouble.

"Zoe." There was less need for quiet now. She looked up to see Portmann motioning off to his left. "We found Monty."

And Monty had found Gallo. Who'd evidently been holed up in what he considered a safe location, not being familiar with Monty's disdain of locks and hinges. Gallo staggered in the dust as Monty pushed him on, then called for him to stand put

Zoe and Mal stood with Monty's crew and watched as he patted at the pockets of Gallo's jacket. His eyes were fixed on Gallo's, no emotion at all showing in as he stopped and reached two beefy fingers to undo a leather button. Delved into the pocket and retrieved a dented tin whistle, each hole embellished with scratches and tarnish. The string it hung from was filthy grey and stiff, as if it had been dipped into something unpleasant. There were letters inexpertly scratched along the length of the back.

Zoe heard Mal breathe, mutter one word to himself. A name, the same one her own mind had whispered to her. That damned whistle. That damned kid.

She watched as Gallo made some attempt to speak, only to silence himself after a curt shake of Monty's head. "Don't." And he turned the same disinterested eyes upon the man who'd taken his ship. Taken his livelihood and his home, everything he owned. Done the same to his crew. Stranded them, made beggars of them in service to his greed. Made elaborate mockery of their desperation and helplessness to amuse his own sadistic whimsy.

There was a pistol in Monty's hand. He'd taken it off the first man he'd killed that day. He pressed it just above Gallo's eye, with an expression that never wavered, and sent one shot into the man's brain.

No one moved for a long tick of time. Then Monty turned to his crew and gave a brief nod. Portmann moved forward and took the body to lay with the others.

Monty turned to Mal and Zoe, fishing in his pocket. "Here's your coin back." He pulled out a small bag and handed it to Mal. He then glanced around the quiet camp. "Looks secured."

Mal activated his comm and spoke into it briefly. "They'll be right down."

--------------

Kaylee repeated the Captain's words to herself. "No one around to bother you here." She flipped open the top of her tool box again, taking a quick visual inventory. Already she'd gone back to the engine room twice, worrying herself that she might need some obscure widget. Now the toolbox had everything she could think to scrounge, and Jayne was eyeing her.

"We need to get down there." He nodded at her, and she got her legs walking, propelling her down Serenity's cargo bay ramp and out into the rattlingly quiet camp.  
She should have followed Wash out - he'd lit out to find Zoe, soon as he'd landed them when the Captain called. Jayne was at her side, his eyes moving intently with every step. He wouldn't let anything...get her, Kaylee knew. But she felt herself wishing she could hear Wash, hear all the silly things he'd be saying about the camp and what it was they had to do.

As she trailed along in the shadow of Jayne and all his weapons, Kaylee had to force herself to keep her eyes frontways. Not looking side to side for the nightmares she'd been imagining she might see - men in the dust, bloody and gasping, gagging on their own bloody exhalations, spasmodic hands reaching for her. Eyes dimming with dirt and sweat and fast-approaching death, locked on her. Reproachful, pleading, or bewildered at how dying was not like they'd thought. She listened to her own light footsteps and Jayne's, wishing again that Wash was nearby, so she could hear his voice and not have to worry about catching the sound of agonizing death in her ears. She found herself shaking and couldn't get it to stop.

Jayne was talking to Mal on his comm and abruptly he turned them, led them through a narrow, shaded walkspace between a hut and a long length of fence. Kaylee chided herself not to speculate what they'd detoured around.

They found the Captain, looking sweaty and dirty and bloody but not injured. Kaylee wanted to put her hand on his arm but he looked almost happy and so she didn't, passed the strap of her toolkit from one shoulder to the other instead.

"It's over here like we thought." He led them to the shed that housed the landlock computer. Kaylee walked between him and Jayne and felt a little bit less afraid. Out of the corners of her eyes all she could see was the Captain and Jayne. Nothing fixin' to jump out at her, grab at her leg as she walked by.

The door had been pulled off the shed - it lay on the ground, a length of cable still attached. The landlock system within didn't look too complicated, Kaylee saw with relief. Probably Gallo had never expected anyone to challenge him. Wash said he'd made a point of preying on what he thought were little fish. She imagined what it would be like, forced off _Serenity_, trying to make her way on whatever world they'd dropped her on, no home, no bed or blanket, no coin in her pocket, hungry, none of her clothes or even her tools.

"Got an idea what to do?" The Captain had waited for her to look over the system.

"Yeah. Looks pretty basic."

"After, I'll need you to look around here." His gesture took in the area around where _Clementine_ was parked - there were two large mechanic's bays with engine parts stacked against their walls. Where they stripped the boats no one could pay ransom for, Kaylee realized. "I want your counsel about what's worth taking - replacements for us, or parts for selling or trade. Zoe's on her way with the mule. It's a good day for us, little Kaylee."

Monty was approaching. Kaylee kept her eyes on his face, because she didn't want a second look at what was sprayed across the front of his jacket and sleeves. "I'm obliged to you, Kaylee girl."

"Glad to help. She's real pretty, _Clementine_." Kaylee stepped into the shed and set to work.

-------------

In a few hours it was done. Kaylee had freed _Clementine_, had almost stopped jumping at every pebble overturned on the ground, and had found them a damn good haul. Wash and Zoe had brought it back to _Serenity_, taking several trips back and forth with the mule. Jayne had started getting the parts unloaded and stowed, but the entire job would take a while.  
Mal found himself pacing the few hundred yards between Serenity and Gallo's mechanic's bay, too adrenalized to settle on one job. It was done - no serious injuries, and a shiny haul for them. If Kaylee's price estimates were even close to right, it was a fine day's work. Enough to stock the pantry, load up on fuel cells, fly easy for almost the next month. He could scarcely believe it, was still waiting for the real fight to begin.

Monty fell into step beside him as Mal climbed the ramp to the cargo bay, keeping up with his quick pace without seeming to move his legs much.

"I wanted to fetch my things." A few sundries his family had sent with him after the wedding. "Now that we got _Clemmie_ liberated, we'll be heading out."

"Know where to?"

"We got a couple leads." Monty shoved his hands deep into his pockets and frowned earnestly. "Thank you ain't near enough, Mal."

"Sure it is." Mal smiled. "Particularly when it's this profitable."

Mal had figured Inara would make herself scarce, but she glided her way down the stairs into the cargo bay, stepping around piles of grimy engine parts to say good-bye to Monty. She passed close by him and he noticed her doing the same thing with her eyes that Kaylee had done. Look at his face, briefly, and then right away. So carefully. To Monty, and then exactly the same to him. Mal knew what she didn't want to see. .

Well, maybe she needed her eyes opened. She'd asked to be here, refused his admittedly dicey plan to get her away. This wasn't her world, it was his, and Mal didn't plan to apologize for what he'd done on behalf of his friend and his crew. Not ever.

"I'm glad you've got your ship back." Her hands were clasped at her waist. She usually didn't do that. "And I so enjoyed meeting your family. May you travel in good health."

"That's a kindness." Monty nodded. "And I'm sure you're welcome back any time."

They both smiled, a little nervously.

Inara glanced at Mal and he saw it again, the apprehension. "I should let you finish."

"No good reason for you to linger here." He picked up a sticky tangle of metal and wire. "I'd expect this to leave a stain that won't come out of that pretty dress easy."

She went up the steps quicker than she'd come down.

------------------------

Kaylee rode back in the mule with Zoe and Wash, who disappeared quickly up to the bridge. She hung around, picking up what looked to Jayne like random pieces of other ships and bouncing nervously on her toes.

No reason not to be direct. Jayne approached her as she stood near an open hatch door. "I can help you out with that."

Kaylee looked at the door in puzzlement, then at him.

"Not the door. Them nerves you got."  
She smiled weakly. "I'm a right chicken, job's all done and I'm still..."

"It's natural. You need some skin touch, get your head right after. That's why Wash and Zoe hustled out of here so quick."

"Jayne..."

"I'll take care of you." Jayne knew Mal was close enough to hear if he wanted to, but Jayne didn't care.

"I know you would." Kaylee squeezed his hand. "And thanks, but I think I'll be alright."

---------------------

She'd closed the shuttle door for some privacy, and hoped to God he'd respect it for once. It had been open, earlier, after she'd lit the incense and prayed her thankfulness that he'd walked back into the cargo bay under his own power, not limping or worse.

So it was closed, and Inara was alone, but the peace she'd been reaching for all day was still elusive. They'd taken lives today. And she'd wanted them to. She'd been on the bridge with Wash, had seen, on their earliest passes, knots of armed men skulking around the camp. Any one of them could kill him, she'd realized to her horror. Shoot or stab and end his life. And it was something new, her own grim pleasure each time Jayne dropped a charge or strafed a few yards of the camp with his gun, to see fewer armed men standing when the smoke cleared. She was horrified with herself, with her relief that Mal and his crew were good at keeping themselves alive and killing others instead.

The knock at her door was much too quiet to be his. It was Kaylee, her hair wet around her pink, shower-warmed face. She'd changed into a soft, loose, long-sleeved shirt and her fuzzy blue sleep pants.

"I wanted to see how you were doing." Kaylee held up a bottle, gave a little smile. Sweet plum wine. The exact horrible...vintage she'd drunk with Mal, just a few nights ago. Before this day. Why did it seem so long ago?

"Better, now that you're here." It was the truth. Inara was tired of being alone. They both needed peaceful company. She thought briefly of her Guild House, of quiet nights and mornings with her Sisters. "Please come in." She got two glasses from her cabinet and set them on the table.

They sat close on the couch. Kaylee placed the bottle next to the glasses and took Inara's hand. "Ain't got to see you since before we started." She scooted closer, shook her head. "I was so scared."

"I think we all were." Inara looked intently at Kaylee's face. "Was it very...bad?"

Kaylee drew a long breath and looked, without seeing, at the bottle and glasses on Inara's table. "Too busy to be scared in the bay with Jayne. But he gave me a gun." She shook her head again slightly, and her hand tightened around her friend's. "I didn't need it."

"I saw some of what he did. From when I was with Wash, on the bridge."

"Did you see anybody - "

Inara spoke quickly. "No. I don't think so."

"It was the walkin' around after that spooked me. Kept thinkin' any second I'd see some kind of blowed up mess..." She shuddered. "Cap'n and Monty took care of the bodies I guess. But it didn't stop me worrying." She let go of Inara and wiped her hands on her pants, then reached for a glass, eyeing Inara's nightgown and robe. "Were you goin' to sleep?"  
"Not just yet." _Not any time soon_, Inara thought privately, accepting the wine Kaylee offered and taking a minute sip before putting it back on the table.

"Mind if I stay with you a while? Go ahead and tell me if you want to be alone." Kaylee looked down for a moment, watching the wine fill her glass.

"It's good to have your company, _mei mei_. I was so worried about all of you."

Kaylee nodded, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears, the same anxious tears that threatened to spill from Inara's eyes, and the two women embraced tightly for a long moment.

Inara leaned back against the couch, but kept her arm draped lightly around Kaylee. Kaylee scooted in, rested her head on Inara's shoulder, and sighed. Inara leaned in so her cheek lay against the crown of Kaylee's hair.

"All that plannin' and frettin' and waitin' and then all of a sudden it's just - over." She took a sip of wine.

"I felt it too. It loomed so large, it was all anyone could think about and then in just minutes - " Monty has his ship back. And men are dead. She shivered, gave a little smile at Kaylee's understanding look.

After a pause, Inara heard Kaylee giggle.

"Jayne offered to settle me down just now."

"Did he."

"Said I needed some 'skin touch.'" Kaylee had pitched her voice lower on the last phrase, a fair imitation of Jayne's masculine drawl.

Inara smiled. "I find myself astonished to say, Jayne's not wrong. Human contact can be very soothing after a traumatic event." She stroked her friend's wet hair, felt her nod.

"Jayne said was pure luck he wasn't workin' for Gallo or someone like. I kept thinkin', what were those fellas like? The ones that...didn't run away. They had a bad boss, but..."

Inara didn't know what to say. "I suppose we all have to be very careful about the paths we choose."

They sat together for a few minutes, neither one talking. Inara felt herself beginning to relax against the warm comfort of Kaylee at her side, when she heard steps on the stairs.

Mal came through the door, looking restless. He'd been to the showers too, Inara could tell, his hair was still wet. She saw his eyes flicker to the bottle on the table, to her glass, and then to her.

------------------

Kaylee wasn't talking That was a singular enough circumstance to make Mal take note. But she wasn't crying, either. Just looked thoughtful, snuggled up into Inara's arm and shoulder. She raised almost sleepy eyes to greet him. "Hi Cap'n."

"Evening." He had no idea why he was here. "Just coming to check everyone's all right." He still felt restless, hyperaware. Thoughts running through his head about what he might do, the opportunities today's bounty might afford. And it seemed when he had these ideas, more often than not he'd end up on Inara's couch, talking them through while she nodded or looked askance or rolled her eyes. But looking at his mechanic, the guilt stung him hot across the back of his neck. Only reason she'd set foot in that place, only reason she'd been so scared all day, was because of him. Because she loved him, and stayed on _Serenity_ when she could have people throwing money at her, begging her to work for them, on any ship or world she fancied.

"We're just talking. Would you like to sit?" Inara's voice was so calm, so polite. Kind, even, but she didn't want him there.

"We got plum wine, Cap'n. You want to have a drink with us?" Kaylee had tried to smile when she said it, but her expression was clouded and wary.

It had been too long, Mal realized, since killing and dying were things other folks did. He'd forgotten how the fear and the worry hung on. He thought about it now, thought about the distance between his world and Kaylee's, between his and Inara's. Nothing to be done about it. He could see Inara fretting, trying not to show it. She wouldn't say anything about this day, just hold it in her mind to reflect on when she thought about him. If she ever did. Best she know the truth.

Mal shook his head. "Good night." He nodded toward the bottle. "Don't indulge too much, it might not agree with you." He steered himself out of the shuttle and into _Serenity_.


	14. The Shuttle Story

"Where are we going?" Kaylee called to her Captain's retreating back as she scrambled to pack her repair kit. He wanted her, and her tools, in shuttle two. "We leave in ten minutes," he had said before stalking away down the corridor.

His voice carried back to her, although he did not slow his steps. "Picking up Inara. Shuttle broke down. She's out on the plains somewhere."

"Is she alright?"

"Alright enough to insult my shuttle."

In a few minutes they were airborne, flying away from where _Serenity_ was docked on the outskirts of town. They had finished a job. Jayne was off in town, pursuing his usual entertainment; Wash and Zoe had hardly been able to contain their excitement at finding out they'd have the ship to themselves.

"I told her you were coming for her. She said to hurry." Wash had been close to giggling, had been much too excited to sit still. One of his gorram dinosaurs was nuzzling at the belly of, apparently, its prehistoric plastic wife.

"She didn't say that, you just want me off my boat so you can..." Mal shook his head. Likely they'd be on top of the ship itself ten minutes after Zoe made the return trip. "Just...put a towel down or something." He'd gone, double time, in search of Kaylee.

Kaylee was speaking with Inara over the comm link while Zoe flew. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Please don't be worried, I'm fine. I was on my way back to the ship when a few of the indicator lights flashed. I tried to make some corrections but found myself losing speed and altitude. I thought it most prudent to descend, and I had already done so when the forward engines lost power. The landing was a little bumpy, but no damage, I think. None of the diagnostics that I am familiar with showed anything out of the ordinary."

Kaylee mused over this information for a few moments. "You have fuel cells?"

"Plenty. I refueled before leaving my client's estate."

Kaylee's eyebrows raised at this. "Wow, guy must be plenty rich to afford his own fueling station."

Mal caught Inara's discreet smile, her only response to Kaylee's assessment.

"Tell her she's to stay put, we'll be there in about an hour."

"Tell the Captain that _she_ can hear him perfectly well, and that as a favor to him she'll rein in her desire to traipse around the plains like a crazy person."

Kaylee snorted her amusement and sent a sidelong glance at the Captain. "Don't let his crabby ways fool ya, 'Nara, he likes playin' hero."

"Yes, I spend my days praying you'll break my shuttle so I can have the privilege of coming to your rescue and getting mocked for my trouble."

"I hardly broke your shuttle."

"Then why ain't it flyin?"

Kaylee broke in. "That's for me to find out, soon's we get there. I got some ideas..." She thought for a moment. "Can you send me those diagnostics you ran?"

"Certainly, _mei mei_."

They were at the shuttle sooner than anyone had expected, and Zoe lost no time in hopping out of the pilot's seat and opening the hatch to the outside. As soon as Zoe leaned out into the thin sunlight of the plains, Inara opened her door and waved, her purple gown rustling in the wind.

"Best get over there and start the heroing, sir." Zoe's hand was on the small of his back as she walked him to the door.

Mal paused at the hatch. "If we get anyone sniffin' around about certain contraband materials, you make sure to - "

"Still remember how to walk and talk at the same time, sir?" Her smile was mild, benign, but the pressure on his back increased noticeably.

"Pushy woman! You just want to get me gone so you can hurry back and -"

"Yes I do sir. Mite keen to get started on that, too." She met his eyes with her uniquely calm expression until he capitulated and started across the flat ground to Inara's shuttle.

Kaylee's greeting to Inara was effusive, but Mal saw she was eyeing the shuttle curiously even as she returned Inara's hug. "Them diagnostics you sent me don't add up anyway I can see. Got to let 'er talk to me face to face. Are you sure you're ok?" Kaylee asked, her eyes taking in Inara's bare arms and fancy dress.

"Yes, completely sure. You got here so quickly, I didn't have time to worry."

"That's because Wash is in a hurry to desecrate my boat with his nakedness in my absence. What's that?" Mal asked, peering over Kaylee's shoulder as she opened an access panel near the shuttle's hatch.

"Just a port for data access while I'm working out here, Cap'n." Kaylee spent a few minutes fiddling with buttons and peering at gauges, then headed purposefully to another panel, bouncing her toolkit against her thigh as she went. Mal followed her after a brief look at the instruments she'd just been using.

His mechanic answered each of his questions patiently, but Mal was familiar with her tone, a voice he privately called _Help Him Lord, He Ain't That Bright_. He figured it was counterproductive to hold her up, having her explain every little thing to him. Besides, the problem wasn't immediately apparent and Kaylee was getting more and more preoccupied with her own thoughts. He figured he'd go check on Inara, and crossed the scrubby, wild ground between the shuttles.

He stuck his head in the open door and saw her standing near the shuttle's bank of controls and monitors. One hand stroked the pink cover at the top of the pilot's seat. "Nice place to crash - wouldn't do to light somewhere homely, I suppose."

Inara turned and smiled. "The terrain is so flat, I could see this stream a long way off. I thought it might be a good landmark, if nothing else."

Mal nodded. "Kaylee's had enough of my chuckleheaded questions, I thought I'd stretch my legs. Care to join me?" Inara fetched the thin wrap that matched her gown and they walked down to the stream. The cold, shining water ran slowly over and around large stones and driftwood that dotted the stream's bed and its wide, flat bank.

"We're going to be here for a while." Kaylee hadn't stopped working to greet them on their return. "I don't know how things got to this kind of state...I waved Wash, told him we'd be back come morning."

"Morning? What have you been doing?"

"Stuff you can't, Captain Crabby." Kaylee sent him a brief scowl over her shoulder, her hands still busy with the shuttle's innards.

Mal grew suspicious. "How much Wash and Zoe pay you to keep us here all night?"

"Wish I'd thought of that, they'd have paid, and dearly." The mechanic rubbed her hands on the seat of her overalls, then peered up at the sky. "I got a start, but it's going to take a while and there's only one o'me. Besides, I can't work in the dark." She wrinkled her nose in sudden excitement. "We could have a campfire!"

Mal turned to Inara with a wry expression. "Next time, bat your eyes and hint around about a tuneup."

--------------

The campfire was actually not a bad idea, Inara thought. And dinner had been a true surprise. She thought Mal had just grown exceedingly bored, when he wandered off and she caught sight of him on the shallow edges of the stream, turning over rocks. Then he had sauntered back, looking pleased, and ordered her to fetch him a basket - something with a lid.

This had raised her suspicions. "May I ask what it is that you are collecting?"

"Dinner! Got crawdads in that stream, they cook up tasty."

"Crawdads?"

"Thought you was a cultured woman." He pulled a sand-colored, shelled thing out of his pocket, dangled it in the space between them, tiny and monstrous. It waved its claws furiously. "Crawdads."  
"Very resourceful." Inara considered the threatening creature. "I'll open some wine."

It had taken a while - she only had a small saucepan in the shuttle's tiny galley area, so they had to cook the crawdads in small batches. This meant dinner stretched into a few pleasant hours by the fire, while the sun set and a distracting profusion of stars came out.

------------------

The fire was down to sleepy embers and the air had grown undeniably chilly when they headed toward the shuttle, walking slowly in the dark.

"I can't sleep in these." Kaylee examined her oily coveralls in dismay as she leaned carefully against a wall, loosening her short boots. "Wreck your fancy bedcovers, 'Nara."

Inara shook her head apologetically. "I didn't bring extra on this trip, _mei mei_, everything's back in my storage hold on _Serenity_. I didn't anticipate -"

"Cap'n will loan me his shirt, won't you, Cap'n?" Her smile grew rascally. "If one of us has to be topless..."

Mal shook his head at her, but untucked the blue shirt he wore and started working at the buttons. "Here," he muttered a moment later, passing her the shirt and crossing to the narrow couch. He looked up as Inara glided behind a screen, a shining length of silk over one arm.

"What're you about?" He heard the suspicion in his own voice.

"I'm not sleeping in this dress...I have a nightgown." She emerged a few minutes later and crossed to the small armoire to put her gown away. The nightdress, deep blue and gleaming, floated behind her in a graceful ellipse.

"What kind of pajamas are those?"

"This gown is completely appropriate, Mal." She didn't bother turning around. "It goes all the way to my ankles."

Mal eyed the slit that traveled up the side of her thigh. "And then it comes right back up to your..."

"Yes, because as we all know, virtuous women don't have legs." Inara passed by him again and sat at her dressing table, taking up her hairbrush.

Mal pulled his boots off and pushed them into the corner. "I'll take the couch."

Kaylee protested from behind the screen. "You don't _fit_ on the couch, Cap'n, not even close."

"And I don't have extra blankets." Inara pulled the brush through her hair a few times as this sunk in. She finished, and reached both hands behind her neck to unclasp the delicate necklace she wore.  
She must have wiped the cosmetics off her face when she was changing, Mal realized. Her skin looked fresh and warm, her lips their own natural pink. So graceful, even just sitting and taking off her jewelry.

"Fine. The floor then. Slept plenty worse places." He got up, reaching for the coat he'd left on the unsuitable couch.

Inara rose from the little cushioned stool, shaking her head emphatically. "No."

"No?" Apparently, she'd forgotten that _her_ shuttle was still part of _his_ ship.

"I won't remember you are there in the night. It's extremely likely I'll trip and land right on top of you." Inara, in that nightgown, on top of him in the dark. A circumstance to be avoided. He watched her cross to the bed. "There's room for all of us, Mal."

"Whoa, there." He knew her suggestion was only practical, but somehow Mal found he couldn't acquiesce without some kind of resistance.

Inara sighed with impatience. "Do you suspect I played engine saboteur as part of an elaborate scheme to seduce you? It's late, and I need to sleep. There's room, and a pillow for you here." She smacked the pillow onto the mattress with a decisive movement. "Suit yourself."

Mal watched her march toward the other side of the bed, all frilly and irritated.

"Ever had three in that bed of yours before?" That brought her up quick - she turned around, fresh annoyance lighting her expression. "Oh, 'scuse me. You don't talk about your business."

Inara's eyes glowed with an ungentle amusement and when she spoke, the arresting sultriness in her voice made Mal both sorry and not sorry he'd asked. "Three in _that bed of mine _isn't about my _business_, Captain." Her smile was languid, provocative, and started him wondering about several very urgent questions he'd heretofore avoided thinking on tonight. "It's about my _pleasure_." The last heated word, spoken barely above a whisper.

Mal turned away and peered out each of the windows in turn, scanning the undifferentiated darkness and seeing nothing. Served him right for bringing the subject up, he supposed. One more thing he knew he'd find himself wondering about, some lonely night down the road when he just couldn't pretend for another second that he didn't want her.

Kaylee stepped out from behind the screen, his shirt hanging to the middle of her thighs. "Oooh, Inara, that's pretty!" She took her friend's hand and led her through a turn, beaming her admiration. "Pretty lace - and I like how it dips down low in the back. Fancy."

Inara smiled a little diffidently at the compliment. "I think we both look charming."

Kaylee had woven her hair into two loose braids, and was fastening the buttons at the cuffs. She stood at the foot of the bed, considering, as she bumped a knee against the mattress. "You ought to sleep in the middle, 'Nara, you're going to get chilly in that nightgown."  
Her genteel _'That won't be necessary' _put a stop to the '_No_!' he'd been about to bark out. Mal looked at Inara quickly, but she was arranging the sheets and blankets with great care as Kaylee slid toward the middle of the bed, grinning with pleasure.

Mal sighed and crossed to the far side of the bed where he stood with his hands on his hips, considering. "I'm not going to get a bill for lying down here, am I?"

Inara narrowed her eyes at him. "Just please try not to drool overmuch."

"You ought to make that into a sign - maybe a fetching needlepoint job - and have it framed on the wall up here." He pointed to a spot above the headboard as he stretched out onto the bed, arranging the blankets over his legs and middle.

They lay straight and quiet and certainly not sleeping for a moment, until Kaylee broke the silence. "This is like an adventure story. Fun."

"It's certainly not what I expected, but none of us are the worse for it."

Kaylee snuggled her shoulders against her pillow. "I still can't figure how the engine got pixilated like it did. Sometimes they're just contrary, like people."

Mal looked up at Inara's ceiling. "That's surely the case with people."

"How'd you know to go looking for crawdads, Cap'n?"

"We had a stream ran through the western pastures at home. Used to ride out there sometimes, swim and fish..."

""Nara, you have coffee for the morning? Or just tea?"

"Oh, I...I have both." Inara sounded a little surprised. "And some biscuits and jelly, we can have a little breakfast." Had her eyes been closed? Was she all the way under the covers, blankets tucked up over her bare arms and shoulders? He had no good excuse to turn his head and look.

"I waved Zoe and Wash before dinner. Well, I left a message. Told 'em it won't take long once the sun's up." Kaylee continued chattering for a few more minutes, but her voice quickly grew languid and drowsy, and the quiet moments between her remarks grew longer and longer. The soft change of her breathing told Mal she was sleeping.

He turned slightly, chancing a look at Inara. She lay quietly, but in the dim starlight he had seen the dark sweep of her lashes move - she was awake. And she had seen him look at her. Mal closed his eyes, intending to keep them closed for the duration, but the near-whispered surprise of her voice had him looking again.

"I was glad you were able to come for me. I'll admit, I was a little apprehensive when the shuttle lost power." Mal heard her take a breath, and exhale. He supposed "apprehensive" was Inara-speak for _scared_, given that she'd been alone, falling out of the sky into a strange and empty landscape.

"No trouble." A question occured to Mal. "If your client had a fueling station, it's a good bet he has a handyman on staff..."

Inara was quiet for a few moments. "It would have been a trifle complicated. He'd offered to extend my contract, but I'd declined."

This was more information than she'd ever offered about a client, and Mal felt a sudden clutching dread about what he might hear next. He kept his voice even and calm, reminded himself Kaylee was sleeping. "Not a pleasant fella?"

"No, he was perfectly amiable. I'd contract with him again. I just found myself wanting to come home."

Amiable. Mal wondered what that meant, tried to imagine how depressed he'd be if a woman he'd taken to bed with had risen up and pronounced him _amiable_. A game, to turn his mind away from the real question. What almost-hidden thing was it that he heard in her voice when she said that last word? "Less than an hour back, once we get started. After the biscuits - I always require biscuits of stranded women I come and fetch."

"I couldn't convince you to scour the territory and find us some bird's eggs? Maybe make a breakfast cereal out of prairie grass and dried flowers?" She was teasing him a little, and sounded happy to do it.

"Little late for bird's eggs - baby birds, though, they fry up tasty, once you pluck 'em."

"Dinner was very good." Apparently, she preferred less gruesome fare for breakfast. "Better than the protein bars I have in the pantry."

"Ah, I won you over. You looked a mite doubtful at first." Mal thought about rolling onto his side so he could see her. He didn't. "Campfire was pretty."

"Yes." The campfire _had_ been pretty. Enjoyable too, especially since Kaylee had carried most of the conversation. But now Kaylee was asleep. Of course. She didn't have anything to be tense about, had been delighted with their impromptu adventure. Inara looked up at the draperies hanging from the ceiling, looked down at the pale outline of her arms against the coverlet. She hadn't for a second managed to forget that Mal was under the same blanket, in her bed, and she didn't know how she was going to get any sleep.

"You said the stream on your property was deep enough to swim in?"

"Ah, we mostly just splashed around, but there were a few deeper places."

She didn't hear herself sigh. "I would have thought that paradise when I was a child."  
"You liked to swim?"

"For the longest time I didn't think so. But the problem wasn't the swimming, it was the pool. Indoors, and the noise echoed horribly, even with just a few - may I ask what's so funny?"

He stopped chuckling, but Inara could hear his smile. "You were a curlyheaded little fusspot, is what."

"I suppose I was." Inara fell quiet, remembering floating for the first time, held up by hands she trusted, smiling proudly up at a young face very like her own. "When I got the chance to swim outside - I loved it. I still do."

There was a long quiet, and then something different in Mal's voice when he spoke. "Ain't much opportunity for it, living on a spaceship."

"No, I suppose not." _But I won't live on Serenity forever_, she said to herself, absorbing the stony pain of this realization with her silence. Inara turned her head only a little, to see if he was still watching the ceiling.

"Maybe next time crash on a warm sunny beach." Mal stretched theatrically, then rested both hands behind his head.

"I hope I don't have to resort to such a desperate act - or crash again, for that matter."

"This your first time? Crashing?"

"Yes."

"Well, Kaylee says you got a talent for it. Didn't hurt the landing gear at all. You kept your wits about you."

"I tried. It was over so fast. And the land was quite flat and empty, which made landing easier." Not necessary to mention how worried she'd been, in the first moments after the crash, that the comm system might have been knocked out. Or, even more worrisome, her unacknowledged certainty that, comm system or no, Mal would have found her.

"In the service of accuracy, it might be said that I rescued you. In distress, as you were."

"Might be said by whom?"

"By...folks." He waited a moment and then restated his point. "You were in distress."

"Certainly." She knew he was waiting for more. "It might also be said that Kaylee rescued me, and that you cooked us dinner."

She heard his amused snort, and the whispering of the coverlet as he moved told her he was relaxing toward sleep. Inara closed her eyes.  
A few minutes later, in her softest voice. "Mal?" He might be asleep. "Thank you."

Almost a whisper, a voice for her dreams. "Any time."

----------------------------

Something was different, different in a blissfully good way, a way that made him want to remain here, drifting in this wonderful half-sleep. He was warm, intoxicatingly warm, snuggled against her - _ta ma de_! Mal went perfectly still, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Soft, alarmingly naked-feeling skin, radiating warmth, pressed against his chest, shifting minutely with each taken breath. Warm, hot, searing suddenly, every nerve ending of his painfully alert. Mal opened his eyes. The dim light allowed him to see an aurora of black curls resting against an elegant neck and a silky bare shoulder. Bare. Definitely Inara. Bare! All the way down to where his own shirtless arm covered hers. His gorram arm! _Hell! A man closes his eyes for 2 minutes and his own gorram limbs are in revolt against him! Damn arm! No way I told it to go __**there**_. _Ai ya, she's gonna be mad_. He raised his eyebrows and peeked over the bare shoulder at exactly what _there_ his arm had wandered off to. A tiny strap, a strap that rightfully should have been up on her shoulder doing its job, keeping this butterfly's wing of a nightgown on her body, was instead resting insolently and uselessly across the high, lush, inviting curve of her..of Inara's...of her...his brain was not making words.

His eyes had abandoned all discipline as well, and were busying themselves in the dim light looking at...things that would have him wretched for months. And his lungs carried right on breathing, breathing her in, her smelling like fresh-baked Heaven, if Heaven were a woman, and right now Mal was certain that it was. Predictably for his luck, Hell was the same woman. The hand that wasn't frozen in panic behind his head was curled around both of hers. She had them loosely clasped, intertwined confidingly with his own fingers, causing his fingertips to spread and come to rest gently against the uppermost curve of her warm...damnit to Hell, her breasts. He could feel a tiny rise and fall of satiny skin against his fingertips as she breathed.

He couldn't move. Moving would be a mistake. Moving might dislodge the strap and launch him out of sanity entirely. He wouldn't move. Moving might wake her. He wasn't moving. Not moving anything, no part of his body that she had snuggled against so comprehensively. He could see her ear, the rise of one pretty cheek, the corner of her mouth. She seemed to be smiling in her sleep.

Mal tried to estimate how much of this he would be able to endure. How long he'd be able to stop himself from thinking about all the things he was certainly not thinking about at this moment. How long he'd be able to withstand the growing need to move against her. What was the status of his other arm? Currently on duty as her pillow. He could feel her breath against it, tickling just a little when she exhaled. She was still asleep. He needed to think, needed to prepare a disclaimer that would make clear to all concerned that he had not transgressed in any way, that he was in no way responsible for the strap or the apparent...hand-holding. He needed to think about something other than how warm she was, how he could feel damn near every feminine curve of her above and beneath the blanket that rested over the perfect rise of her hips. Damnit! Should have worn his coat to bed.

Coat wouldn't have been any defense against the sound she just made, a soft, purring _mmmmmm_ noise of contentment. His arm flexed to tighten around her, entirely of its own accord. Damn arm. Was that him, breathing like that? Sounded like gasping. He tried to stop, forced a swallow through his suddenly dry throat. Again he heard her, _mmmmm_, her tone a little higher this time and inarguably pleased-sounding. He saw her mouth move a tiny bit as she sighed. That, he told himself sternly, he could and would handle. To gain a small respite from the onslaught of feeling, he tried to ease his body away from her slightly. Then came real trouble.

She was moving. Moving her body, moving against him with a little, unabashedly petulant noise when he leaned away and then another sigh when she found him. As if she hadn't pressed close enough before, and wanted more. He heard himself gasp again, heard the blankets rustle as she nestled snugly into him. An excruciating sting rushed across the skin of his chest and belly, along the inside of his arm. She lay still for a blessed moment, then began again. The...wiggling. She moved her legs against his then lifted and dropped her shoulder, causing it to scrape softly against his bare chest. The troublesome strap slipped lower yet. She snuggled the curve of her backside against him, and he had to choke back the helpless moan that rose in his throat. Not her, though. He heard her again as she moved against him more restlessly now, a long, purring sigh of pleasure from between slightly parted lips.

The situation was growing increasingly desperate. He had to think. Not the easiest thing to do, as the first minutes of morning came on he could see more with every moment. Could see how sheer and filmy her nightgown was, could see the curves and shadows of the skin beneath, could see that the edge of the diabolical strap was now resting just a few scant millimeters above...where her curves stopped being curves and started being a breast, in earnest. He'd seen her in a low-cut dress before, but this was entirely different territory.

And she was moving again. Moving and purring, her fingers tightening slightly around his. Mal felt the shivers that ran through her body, and an awed realization surged through him of what might be happening to her as she slept. He clenched his eyes shut. Turned his face away. Held his breath, gritted his teeth in an effort to endure. Couldn't stopper his ears.

"Mmmmmal."

-------------------------------------

Deliciously warm, deliciously comfortable. Relaxed, with a very agreeable tingling sensation throughout her body. Fragments, threads of dreams floated through her awareness. Cool night air on her face, a voice from behind her: _just out there, where I'm pointing, mei mei._ A winding, pebbled garden path. Scarlet leaves, moving in the wind and showing their green undersides. A boat drifting slowly toward an illuminated shore. Mal, so close...the faint surprise she registered was immediately obliterated by the racing hunger of their kiss. Kisses. Shocking. Scalding. She was dizzy, blistering with need, holding on, greedy Claiming him. The force of her desire, hurtling her past ritual and ceremony, past anything she'd experienced, into something wild and primal and completely new. His skin was - his mouth - her hands - his eyes, his voice, his breath on her neck, oh, his hands...more, now, a revelation,...it was him, him, finally allowed somehow, finally him, she heard herself, heard the joyful wildness of her own voice as she called his name...

Dread. Icy, clanging dread. Inara snapped her eyes open and saw hands. Three hands. One too many. Hers, and one of his. Entwined. She willed herself to remain calm and still. Moved only her eyes to see his hand again, the bare arm encircling her body. The hand wasn't moving. Inara allowed herself a tiny bit of cautious relief. He appeared to be asleep, and perhaps she hadn't been as...loud as she feared. She kept her hands still. Kept her breathing light as she took in more details. His warm fingertips rested gently against her breast. To be fair, it appeared she was holding them there. One arm had somehow ended up as her pillow. The other lay heavy across her own arm. Inara looked down, saw the strap that had dragged off her shoulder under his bicep. Saw she was terribly close to being indiscreetly, well...exposed. Inara studied the situation. The strap wasn't going to budge as long as his arm remained draped across her, there was no use trying to adjust it right now. She'd have to move her hands, and he'd wake up. _How convenient_, a voice inside her mocked. _You find that the most prudent course of action is to remain in bed, holding hands and - snuggling against the half-naked body of the man you're renting this shuttle from. The man you were just dreaming about. The man you love. _

_I'm not doing anything wrong_, Inara protested to herself. _I'm not taking advantage of Mal. I'm not hurting anyone. _She let the warmth, the wonderful lean masculine strength of his body against hers register. Precious Buddha, he felt good. The lightweight silk of her gown had warmed to body temperature and she could feel his bare skin against her nearly as well as if she'd been wearing nothing at all. Every instinct told her to move against him, to turn in his arms and awaken him to the desire rushing through her. She was somehow fatally certain that Mal would be devastatingly...attentive. Inara found herself biting her lip to keep from whimpering at the thought.

Trying to concentrate, she closed her eyes. Immediately, the rest of her senses seemed to heighten. She became acutely aware of his breath against her neck, of how very close his mouth must be. Couldn't stop imagining what his kiss would feel like, right there. The hand she still held - how might it feel, for him to trail those fingers slowly, please, lightly over her skin? It was growing more difficult each moment to lie still and pretend to be asleep, innocently unaffected by such intimate nearness. To pretend not to notice that his sleeping body was responding to her in ways that made her breathing go shallow and ragged and her body ache with wanting him.

Desire for him was a pull she was used to resisting. Much more troublesome, the man she wanted was also the man she loved. The man she loved, and he was needing and alone. She had seen him shutter his eyes against her so many times, denying his hunger and pain. So strong, stronger by far than her own need, the wish to give herself, join with him, sweep away his bitter, spartan loneliness and in its place offer intimacy and joy.

Nothing would happen. Nothing could. With all that had passed between them, it was impossible. Unbearable, the thought of offering him love, and him making some miserable joke about the evident inadequacy of her last client, or how automatic her response sequence was upon awakening with a man. Worse, the sorrowful pity when he realized the _whore_ had a heart and had given it away in vain. Most of all, the realization of what his pride would and would not allow. His likely response to her, whispering love and desire to him as he wakened? Pity, or suspicious fury that she was trying to gain some kind of advantage over him. He'd never forgive her for what he'd see as ruthless manipulation, for being willing to lie about love for her own gain.

She had to wake him.  
"Mal," she whispered. Inara thought his breath might have hesitated for a moment, but he gave no answer. "Mal," again, a little louder. "Mal."

"Mmmmm," he mumbled against her neck, for a moment before his body went stiff.

----------------------

_She's awake. How long's she been awake for?_ Mal thought. He'd been trying to content himself with looking at the curls and waves and shiny places in her hair while praying she stopped the...wiggling, and the...calling out. Calling his name. _Mal? Mal is...me! I'm Mal! _was the closest thing to a coherent thought he'd had at that moment, fighting to restrain himself from answering the sensual way her body moved and the heat in her voice. He'd lost faith in salvation long ago but still believed, from bitter experience, in punishment. Which is what this was, Inara asleep in his arms, affected as she seemed to be. A few days before, he had accused her of being cold. Now, some sadistic devil with a personal interest in his case was making damn sure he knew otherwise.

_Don't mean a thing_, he'd told himself sternly. Mal knew, from huddling together against the cold, from all manner of circumstances in the war, that sleeping people said and did...things. Things they might not want to act on in the light of day. Just because Inara had sounded like - well, like she had sounded - like a woman who - didn't mean she wanted _him_. Probably just a dream.

Oh, God! Inara, dreaming about him? What manner of dream? Mal was trying to put the brakes on this futile and sweaty line of thinking when he heard her whisper his name, her normal voice this time. He'd been too startled to answer. She called his name again, clearly awake and trying to get his attention. Still holding on to his hand with her soft fingers threaded through his own.

"Are you awake?" Inara was relieved. He'd been asleep, earlier. He hadn't heard what she'd said. How she'd said it.

"I'm awake."

She wasn't hissing, like she did when she was well and truly offended. Wasn't using her lofty scholar's voice, either, when she wanted to signal she'd had enough of his unenlightened Rim nonsense. She didn't seem overly mad, Mal thought, unless she'd only just awakened and hadn't had the opportunity to become mad yet.

"You are holding my hand." Her voice came out soft and amused. Inara felt him raise himself a tiny bit as if to confirm her statement for himself.

Mal spoke after assessing the situation. "Technically, you are holding my hand."

"Your hand is on top." She rustled the fingers that were under his hand.

"But your fingers are entwining in some fashion, otherwise I could - " he felt her fingers release his, heard her exasperated noise and began to lift his hand and arm, remembered the nonfunctional nightgown strap. Who knew what might befall the strap - oh, please, no falling - if he moved his arm just any old way.  
"Uh, Inara, I think you got a bit of adjusting needs done with your pajama dress." Mal squeezed his arm against hers and paused. "Not that I was looking overmuch, but it seems to have...slipped."

"Oh! It must have got caught under your arm," Inara quickly tugged the strap out from under Mal's arm and back up on her shoulder "when you rolled onto me."

"When _you_ rolled onto _me_. You are now in the middle of the bed," Mal couldn't help pointing out, "and I am still here on the side where I began."

"I didn't roll under your arm." The arm that was still resting on hers. It seemed to Inara that there was some kind of point at stake here, something to do with who would pull away first.

"Well." Mal raised his eyebrows. "I surely must have put my arm 'cross you to stop all that wigglin' about that you do."

"I assure you I do not _wiggle about_." She pronounced the phrase as if it were some singularly backward habit, but Inara was relieved. If he was calling what she did _wiggling about_, he couldn't have noticed how...affected she had been.

"You do at that. I have bedded down with troops more times than I care to recollect, and you are the wiggliest individual I have ever known." Mal reminded himself that he'd claimed a friendship with her, and tried not to dwell on how her body had felt moving against his.

"Oh? Soldiers don't _wiggle_?" He was still so close, although Inara noticed he'd pulled back discreetly as soon as she'd awakened him. She squelched the impulse to lean back against him.

"No they do not. Contrary to good military discipline, wiggling. You won't catch me or Zoe - or Monty wiggling, not a bit." He felt her start to shake. It took a moment to realize she was laughing.

"You're comparing sharing a bed with me to snuggling up with _Monty_? Oh, the mental image that makes! Did you hold his hands also?" And the trials of earlier that morning were nothing compared to how it felt now, with her happy and laughing in his arms. To keep himself, still caught by the enchantment of her laugh, from pressing a soft kiss onto her neck. To turn her in his arms and kiss her laughing cheeks, nose, mouth. To bask in the warmth of her shining eyes.

Inara had turned, softly laughing still, her shoulder resting against his chest, needing to look him in the face to see if he could possibly defend his comparison of her to Monty. Shaking her head in disbelief, but when she met his gaze, her laughter stopped. As did his. It was all she could do, as her eyes moved over his suddenly guarded and apprehensive face, to keep from reaching for him. The desire she thought she'd tamped down came rising through her, rushing insistently. Her breath caught just below her throat as the look they shared stretched into a longer and longer moment and she willed herself to keep still and see what would unfold. It was as much as she could do. She waited.

Inara watched Mal close his eyes briefly as he turned away, rolling to a sitting position on the side of the bed with his back to her. She heard him clear his throat as she moved the blankets down and turned away to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

"Would you pass me my robe, please? It's hanging - yes, thank you," she finished as Mal reached across the bed, the silk of her robe bunched in his hand.

_Fancy robe. Figures - Companion gear. Wonder if she has that little request memorized. Some kind of closing act - get up, get dressed, good bye. Not new to her, waking up with...company. _He remembered her voice - he knew he'd remember it forever. _Didn't seem likely, for her to be dreaming about who - what she might have been dreaming about. She ain't exactly hurting for that kind of attention...is she?_ Mal was more curious than he'd ever let on about the exact details of her business transactions. _Was a Companion's satisfaction not part of the deal? Could a man take her to bed and somehow not care? Were it ever me, I'd make damn sure the job got done before anyone's feet hit the floor.. _He imagined man after man sitting where he now sat, and felt a stab of lustful envy, followed by a primitive, prideful thought he almost couldn't admit to: _Bet she's never called out for a one of them in her sleep.  
_  
"Some good reason it's like a cryo unit in here? Like to freeze all of us." She saw Mal reach for his shirt, folded on a table near the bed.

'No, I -" Inara frowned. "Is the climate control system out?" For the first time that morning, she remembered Kaylee. Mal must have had the same thought - he was moving toward the door in his unbuttoned shirt and stockinged feet. "Did you plan to freeze us, Kaylee-girl, leaving this door open!"

Kaylee's laugh came in through the door. "Didn't want you snoozin' the day away, Cap'n!"

Mal shook his head as he walked back to the bed and sat down where he'd been. "She's having a laugh at our expense. Nice prank, that." He considered for a moment. "Reckon that's why we were sleepin'...close."

Inara nodded. "I have a vague recollection of feeling cold in the night - maybe it was early this morning. That would explain why I...moved toward you."

His voice was markedly less tense. "Must have been why I -" he began to reach for a boot, let out a soft chuckle of relief. "Didn't want you thinkin' I would take advantage of you in your sleep."

Inara sighed. For some reason it sounded like she was trying to be patient with him. "And you can be reassured to know that wasn't my intent either. Toward you." She heard him stop moving entirely.

"Huh?"

She was quiet for a moment. "We were pressed quite close together when I woke. Not _all _of you was asleep, Mal."

'"Well, that's only-" he was wrestling with his boots again now. _Only because you're more tempting, even sound asleep, than any woman I've known. Only because it's been - longer than I care to contemplate. Only because of how you looked, and smelled, and felt, and sounded... _

Inara's voice was calm and even. "I didn't want you to think I would exploit you for my own pleasure."  
"Can't have that." Mal stood and began to fasten the buttons of his shirt.

"You must know you're a _physically_ attractive man, and not at all annoying when you're fast asleep." Her pleasant, perfectly dry tone communicated her true message unequivocally.

Mal abandoned the buttons and turned toward Inara. "I could go back to sleep right now if you need me to, darlin'. Out like a light soon's my head hits the pillow." He waited until she turned around, her eyebrows raised in mild incredulity, before he continued. "You're welcome to exploit me six ways from Sunday. Not a thing you could do to me will wake me up, no matter how many times you crave to do them. Just let me rest," he put out a hand as if to slow her approach, "and I mean _rest_, rest, not the _fun_ rest - for a few minutes in between rounds, and please don't judge me too harshly. I'm not as young as I once was."

Inara's smile was wide. "How generous of you."

"Do you need me to sign a waiver, some kind of affadavit? I'd swear with my hand on the good book, or anywhere else you'd like it." He pretended to think for a moment. "Fair certain I'm of the suggestible sort as well, so you can just whisper any special requests in my ear. Would you like me on my back, then?" He was complete solicitousness as he positioned last night's discarded pillow at the top of the bed.

"My heart's all aflutter." Her eyes were shining, she was near to laughing again, the most enchanting thing about her. Which, with all that he'd witnessed this morning, was saying something.

Mal hitched one thumb in a signal over his shoulder. "Let me just pop out for a second and tell little Kaylee you need to amuse yourself with my semiconscious body."

She didn't answer, just giggled in earnest now at his shameless silliness, and it felt like a supreme achievement. She woke up so cheery and sweet, and for once he hadn't said the wrong thing and angered her or scared her off. It was a pleasure he hadn't hoped for in a long time, waking up with a happy woman, and Mal found himself thinking he could gladly waste the entire day in the shuttle with her, just to be close to her and hear her voice and see her smiling face. If he ever had such a thing, had a day to waste without fretting about some new job or some old enemy, if he could spend it without having to explain or justify himself somehow, it would be right here with her. Or maybe, if he was being honest, back there on the bed with her.

But then he was moving, with her close behind him, because of the loud crash and the scream they'd both heard. _Kaylee_.

--------------------------

Mal was down the ramp before the sound had died in her throat. Kaylee saw him advance as she struggled against the grip of the filthy, muttering stranger who'd attacked her. Kaylee heard a thud and felt the man's grip on her loosen as Mal pulled at the man from behind. She'd never heard her captain make a noise remotely like he was making now, a terrifying roaring growl. His face hardly looked familiar.  
Sick panic clutched at her insides as she backed away, still watching Mal grapple with the stranger. They were weaving erratically from side to side as they each gripped each other's upper bodies, trying for control. In a moment they were on the ground. The alien, terrifying noise continued. It was Mal.

And then Inara was with her, hands pulling Kaylee back, her elegant robe blowing around her as she stared at the struggle in front of her. Kaylee had never seen her friend so white.

"I don't - "

"He musta seen us and come to see if there's -" it was hard to think. She had been nearly finished with the repair to the shuttle, and a foul shadow had loomed over her. Blind luck, she had hit out wildly with her toolkit and slowed him for a moment. Something had flown out of his hand in that moment, to clang menacingly against the shuttle - Kaylee didn't know what it had been, maybe a knife.

The frantic gasp Inara made brought Kaylee out of her brief confusion. Mal and the stranger had rolled, in their struggle, onto the rocks near the stream, and the stranger had used his momentum to jar the Captain violently, several hideous times, against the edge of one boulder. Mal made an enraged noise, and grabbed viciously at the man's stringy hair, forcing his assailant's head back while he struggled to get out from under the attacker.

It was grotesque, nightmarish. Although thin nearly to emaciation and rather diseased-looking, the stranger was as tall as Mal. A fierce, unblinking aggression seemed to course through his sinewy body, and he punched, kicked, bit, and clawed at Mal with keening rage. Mal screamed something that Kaylee didn't understand, and Inara disappeared from her side.

---------------------------------

"Gun!" he had bellowed, in a voice she hardly recognized. The command in his voice shook Inara from her horrified paralysis, and she sped into the shuttle to find Mal's gunbelt. She freed the pistol with shaking hands and ran, praying all the while, back to where Mal still struggled with the attacker.

She'd never seen anything so fearsomely violent. It was apparent from the first moments of the struggle that the man was trying to kill Mal - several times he attempted to get both hands around Mal's throat, or to shove his head or body against a nearby rock. Inara could only assume that the man was some kind of outlaw who had happened upon their shuttle and, seeing Kaylee outside alone, had figured them for easy targets. There were tools scattered around the site, but Inara feared to get too close to the grappling men. They were turning over and hitting out so rapidly she could hardly pick a safe way to approach, much less strike out with any tool without risking hitting Mal. When he had screamed, Inara understood what he meant. One of them needed to have Mal's gun ready, in case the attacker got the best of him and came to attack her and Kaylee. In case the attacker killed Mal.

Inara was shaking, her mind blurred by the horror in front of her eyes. There was blood now, both men were sweating through their torn clothes. They scrambled across the ground, grappling each other in a sickening intimacy. Those were the arms around her this morning. That was the hand she had held. That was the body he'd surrendered to her this morning with his sweet, silly jest. And now he might die, he was fighting for his life against this sudden, bloodcraving nightmare of flesh.

She bit back an anguished, disbelieving scream as Mal and the stranger slid down the short, gravelly bank to the edge of the stream. Mal's attacker was trying to straddle him now, hands around his throat, clearly aiming to force his head under the water. Getting as close as she dared, some long, metal tool of Kaylee's suddenly in her hand, Inara watched Mal claw with one hand viciously at the man's face, gouging his eye, while the other grabbed at the chokehold around his neck. Both men were making gruesome, enraged noises, sounds she could hardly believe were human.

It seemed to go on for a long time, watching in sickeningly helpless desperation while Mal and the stranger tried to kill each other. Then suddenly, it was over. There was a rock in Mal's hand, a bloody rock, and the attacker sprawled limply in the gravel at the stream's edge. Mal was standing nearby, his hands braced against his legs in an effort to stay upright, bleeding from seemingly dozens of ugly wounds. His breath came rapidly as he watched the stranger. The other man lay twitching on his side, panting irregularly, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the water in front of him. His vestigial clothes were stiff with layers of grime. He had a clouding, rancid smell about him, long, feral fingernails, and the skin on his face, neck, and hands were as repulsively filthy as his clothes.

"Was he a Reaver, Cap'n?" Kaylee gave voice to all the terror of the moment with the one word.

Mal gasped out his answer. "No." His gaze traveled over Kaylee for a moment, then back to the wreck of a man on the ground. "No." Mal moved, put his hands on the man. Inara saw what he meant to do, and turned away as he did it. It took longer than Inara had imagined. No one but the dying man made a sound.

---------------------

Got his blood on her pretty robe when she helped him back to the shuttle. Laid him out on that bed of hers too, filthy as he was, while Kaylee sent Zoe a wave. Nothing funny about how she looked at him while she got those buttons undone and eased his shirt and trousers away from his sticky, torn skin. Probably none of her clients had got up from her bed and beat a man to death for her morning's entertainment. _I'll only be a moment_, she said as she brushed his hair back from his face.

Heard Zoe's voice as if she were standing right beside him. _Get out of there. Keep him still. _More words to Kaylee, soothing and kind. Kaylee lifted off soon after. Mal guessed she'd finished the repair job._  
_  
He found himself staring distantly at Inara's hands, moving intimately over him, barely shaking as they did. Warm water in the basin, some kind of soap that must have stung as she passed the sponge she held over the cuts and scrapes and scratches and bites. Watched her hurrying back and forth, back and forth, bringing clean water. She'd given him a smoother, Mal remembered, from the little medkit she'd fetched. There was some kind of salve, after the soap and the water and the gently blotting towels and the whispered prayers she carried on with, never checking his face to see if he appeared to object.  
It hurt to breathe. Something was moving, clicking in his chest, something that shouldn't and usually didn't. He wanted his gun, tried to get up. She stopped him from rising, light hands on his shoulders and pleading eyes. '"Zoe said not to move. Please, Mal."

"Had to finish it." Now she'd seen what he was. Now she would leave.

Her hand went around one of his, gently but insistently. She waited until he met her eyes. "I know."

His voice came out as a mumble. "Didn't want you to see -" He was remembering the whole hideous thing. The need to get away moved him to try to push himself upright again.

"You may have broken something when you -" There was fear on her face as she touched his shoulders again. "Just wait for Zoe, Mal."

"Not fixin' to die, Inara." The pain was making sweat break out across his skin. "Just messin' up your bed until I get back to my boat."

He looked at her while she looked at the battered hand she held. Her voice was just above a whisper. "You wouldn't have been here if it weren't for me."

If she was going to cry, he needed to get away or pass out. Or both. Mal tried to rise again, but stopped at the fresh alarm in her eyes.

"Please!" Her voice was high and a little panicky, but when she spoke again, she sounded calmer. "Please, Mal. It won't be long before we're home, just...lie still. Please."

He nodded, and saw the relief in her eyes. But she kept watching him and saw the shivering start - the air in the shuttle was still cool from this morning, and they'd had to pull off most of his clothes. Inara pursed her lips in concern, then pulled one side of the coverlet over him. Leaned over him, took the other half of the blanket in both hands, and draped that across him as well.

"Is that better?"

It was warmer, and he tried to stay still but with the blankets pulled up he couldn't see everything, and he needed to be able to see. Their weight lay unfamiliar against his skin, his screaming, hypervigilant nerves. He couldn't, it was too much, and he heard his own choking breath as he pushed and kicked the blankets off his chest, struggled to sit up.

"It's ok." Her face was so pale. "Just...stay here with me. Please." And she sat down on the bed, then slowly stretched out next to him, pressed herself, shaking, against what she evidently judged to be his less wounded side, her breathing hitched and shallow, her anxious eyes never leaving his face. "Just til we get back to _Serenity_, Mal."

One arm she lay so gingerly across his collarbone, her hand resting curled like a sleeping leaf against his neck. He unclenched his arm and circled her in and she sank slowly down until her face rested against his shoulder. His hand settled in halting exhaustion on the skin of her hip where the gown had fallen away. Her bare, restless knee held the middle of his thigh below it. He was watching and so he could see that she shut her eyes tightly as she said what he realized she needed to hear as much as he did. "We're going home."


	15. His Mrs Janisch Part 1

1What really irked Mal was that Zoe wasn't on board when the feds came calling. Kaylee's birthday, _Serenity_ was planetside on Boros with a bit more than a day before the meet with the sketchy characters they'd be doing business with, and so Zoe and Inara took Kaylee to some place Inara knew. Ladies' baths in clean hot water, mysterious and womanish bathing rituals, shampoo and soap that didn't smell identical to the bottle of stuff next to the galley sink, and shiny colors on their toes. Zoe'd be at her most glamorous, come to break him out of jail that night.

Yeah, he'd signed off on the outing - it was Kaylee's birthday, and he'd seen the gratitude in her eyes. More than one reason, Kaylee loved Zoe, but it was going on two weeks since the attack and his _mei mei _still had that apprehensive set to her shoulders, more often than he liked to see. She'd feel safer with Zoe along. Mal didn't know how Inara was taking it, precious little she'd shown to him since that morning, when she'd lay next to him, first sleeping, and then on the sweaty, bloody mess he'd made of her bed, to keep him still while Kaylee rushed them back to _Serenity_.

But she hadn't left, although he'd been sure she would. He'd been waiting for her to come to him, with an entirely plausible explanation about a lovely opportunity elsewhere. She was still on his ship, still the same, and he was starting to hope she understood about what he'd had to do. Starting to hope, and starting to remember how sweet she'd been that morning, and the inviting warmth of her eyes when she turned, laughing in his arms and for one intoxicating moment he might still have been a man who kissed a woman when she looked at him like that.

Maybe. Maybe the something he imagined there might be between them, might not be only in his imagination. If she meant to stay, and if he could find a way to get to the truth between them. Ifs. Maybes.

He kept the cussing under his throat, smacked a bland smile on his face as he set about welcoming the gorram law onto his boat, making yokelly comments about the traffic in port and asking their sufferance for a moment's delay while he fetched his (fake) books for them. He'd just turned on his heel, that pleasant idiot's face still suffocating his own, when one of the feds called his name. His real name, not his fake books name. Things were about to get very bad, and Zoe wasn't there.

Maybe that was for the best, Mal told himself, turning back to the lawmen. Were she about, both of them would likely soon be on the inside and that would leave the breakout op in the hands of Wash and Jayne.

"We won't be needing your ledgers, Captain Reynolds, don't trouble yourself." The fed mouthpiece smoothed his hair back. "Our records indicate you rent a shuttle to Miss Inara Serra, is that correct?" Mouthpiece looked up from his data pad, all manners and Regulation Handbook friendliness, to see Mal's wary nod. "We're here to speak with her."

"She's not about." Mal didn't like this. What the hell was going on to bring four Boros Branch feds calling for Inara?

"Do you know if she is meeting a client?" So delicate, so respectful, but Mal caught the glance exchanged by the men standing behind Mouthpiece. In their official vehicle on the way here, Mal was suddenly sure these upstanding lawmen hadn't called it "meeting."

"No, she's just out for a bit. Due back this afternoon, if you'd like to - "

Mouthpiece interrupted with a smile. "We'll wait."

There's not much lawbreaking to be done with feds holding a quilting bee in a man's cargo bay. Mal busied himself for a few stupid minutes moving crates around and pretending to check invoices, absorbing the tolerant smiles of the law.

Mal ran out of forebearance, put on his best dim, worried citizen's face, and approached the feds again. "Has there been any kind of accident? Was someone...hurt? Miss Serra didn't mention..." Mal trailed off, shaking his head, genuine confusion under his fake bewilderment.

Mouthpiece - he'd identified himself as Gautier, Mal remembered - sent an appraising look Mal's way. Smiled. Let that standard issue pleasant demeanor slip, just a hair's breadth. "No, Captain Reynolds, fortunately we're not delivering bad news."

He detached from his herd and walked closer, still eyeing Mal intently. "We just need to ask _Miss_ Serra," and Mal wondered at the emphasis, but only for a moment, Mouthpiece kept talking and cleared it all up fine "about her husband."

----------------

Folks like Kaylee should have more than one birthday a year," Zoe announced, grinning.

" Yes, that's only right." Inara returned the smile as she slid into the taxi beside Zoe. "Someone ought to appropriate birthdays from those that don't appreciate them properly - and redistribute them to the deserving. To the fun people."

"I wouldn't turn 'em down, 'specially if I get to get my fancy on at a place like that!" Kaylee glanced behind her at the spa as she fastened her seat belt. "I bet that's just a plain old regular day in a Companion's house, right, 'Nara?"

Inara laughed softly, enjoying the openhearted smile on her friend's face. "Not quite."

"We ought to come back next year." Kaylee looked from Inara to Zoe and nodded excitedly. "No reason we couldn't be around Boros again, there's plenty to st-....do here." She glanced fast, apprehensive eyes at the cabdriver, clearly wondering if he had noticed the word she'd bitten back. But he appeared to be paying them no mind, and after a moment Kaylee returned Zoe's amused smile. "We could come back for your birthday, Zoe, it's coming up pretty soon."

"Hmm, I wouldn't object. And I bet my husband would love girl-talkin' in the steam room.."

"He'd look quite dashing in a pink robe and slippers." Inara nodded her head at Zoe for emphasis as both women smiled.

"He's a very pretty man - tells me so all the time." At this, all three women shared an affectionate laugh.

"And Zoe, they got those private springwater rooms, did you see? The whole room is a little pool, wall to wall with the steps going right down into the water, you could - "

"That did not escape my notice, sweetie-girl." Zoe's voice was a rich purr as she sent Kaylee a sly, sidelong look..

"Course, since Wash is coming we'd be obligated to carry Jayne and the Captain along too." Kaylee wrinkled her nose, considering. "I bet Jayne'd wallow in that mud bath all day."

Inara chuckled. "And then roam the halls covered in it like some kind of uncouth swamp monster."

Zoe raised an eyebrow at Inara. "There are cultured swamp monsters?"

Kaylee answered for her. "On Sihnon there are." She shook her head in feigned exasperation. "Cap'n would wear his boots in the steam room."

"Probably insist on frisking the pedicure boy." Zoe narrowed her eyes in a brief imitation of Mal's suspicious glare.

"Zoe." Inara tapped at her friend's hand, then nodded out the window. They could see _Serenity's_ open cargo bay, and the vehicle parked outside it. Inara heard Kaylee's soft gasp.

"Whadya think...do you think..." Kaylee looked at Inara, then at Zoe, who had shifted forward in her seat for a better look.

"We'll see." By now, they were close enough to see four strangers, dressed for office work, loitering in the cargo bay. Mal moved among them, throttling a broomstick and looking pointedly genial.

"Bet they're not delivering a birthday cake."

_Husband?_ Mal shrugged. Gautier was watching him, looking for some kind of reaction. "Never had the pleasure."

The officer smiled at this, a little too politely. "His name is Redding Janisch. Has Miss Serra mentioned that name?"

Mal shook his head. "Not that I recall, no."

"Maybe you've seen him about, just not made his acquaintance." He extended a tailored arm and passed a capture, seeming to make a decision as he did. "Would you characterize your relationship with Miss Serra as close, Captain Reynolds?"

"Not particularly." Close. Conjured up all kinds of memories that he didn't need to be dwelling on now, not looking at a capture of Inara, dressed up fancy even by her standards. A wedding dress? Could be, Mal hadn't gotten around to familiarizing himself with the bridal fashions on Sihnon. Her hair was swept back from her face and neck and dotted all throughout with crystals and bitty flowers. Jewels at her ears, wrist, throat. She was dancing with, well, any woman's working definition of Prince Charming. Tall, handsome, rich - if the clothes and the setting were any indication. And he held Inara as she danced, beaming up at him, her hand resting assured on one strong-looking shoulder. Other couples flitted through the candlelit background of the picture, but these two seemed not to notice or care. Inara and her husband.

Mal checked the date stamp at the side of the capture as Inara and her prince swayed languorously, contentedly to the intimate, thrumming music. It was from a year before she'd started renting the shuttle - if his quirky remembrance was accurate, exactly a year. What, had she promised Prince Charming a year of wedded bliss before the princess vacated the castle?

He was being watched. He couldn't scowl, cuss, punch, kick, throw, smash, or set fire to anything. Put on thoughtful dumb face again, raised his eyebrows at Mouthpiece. "She should be back soon, but I can call her if it's..."

"I'll need to ask that you not call her, Captain Reynolds."

They didn't want her knowing in advance that they were coming. What in holy hell was going on? He nodded amiably, giving the feds the face of a man who couldn't draw an inference to save his life. "Best she not be fretted on the way." He picked up a broom from where Jayne had left it against the bulkhead, began to sweep the floor like the 'verse's biggest bozo.

Gautier didn't believe him and Mal knew it, but he played along just the same. "Thank you."

They continued like this a few more minutes, each pretending not to watch the other, when Mal heard the whine of the taxi approaching _Serenity_. He stowed the bozo broom and nodded at Gautier, whose eyes had already turned toward the bay's opening. Gautier's men were looking as well. Looked mighty keen to do their jobs, interviewing the Companion in trouble. Mal wondered if a detail of four officers went sallying about to interrogate everyone the Boros feds needed to know better.

--------------

"This doesn't look auspicious." Zoe was still smiling as she looked out the window, but her voice had gone quietly grim. "Feds on our boat."

"Feds?" Kaylee's voice squeaked. "How do you know?"

Zoe sent her a look. "And look at how mad the Captain isn't. Ah, he's been sweeping." She lowered her voice just a bit. "Follow my lead. And don't look nervous."

"Easy for you to say." Kaylee kept a jumpy smile on her face as she watched out the window.

They disembarked from the taxi and walked, together, up the cargo bay's ramp.

"Good afternoon, Captain." Zoe turned to the four men. "Gentlemen." She faced Mal again, her face the picture of mild concern. "I hope you didn't have to start without me, sir?"

"Oh, these gentlemen aren't our merchants. And they're not here for us. This is Lieutenant Gautier of the Boros Federal Investigative Office."

Gautier spared Zoe a nod, but she saw where the men behind him were looking. At Inara, who stood frozen at the top of the ramp, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes enormous.

"Miss Inara Serra?"

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Gautier." Inara nodded at the men behind the lieutenant. "Gentlemen."

Zoe turned to Mal, expecting some details, but he was watching Inara even more closely than the police were.

"What brings you here, Lieutenant." Phrased not as a question, but a request; soft, but very close to an order for information.

"Miss Serra." Gautier took a few steps forward, his voice efficient and mannerly. Zoe noticed he was keeping the rest of them in his field of vision as well. "I'd like to ask you some questions about your husband."

Zoe saw Inara's quick moment of relief, followed by a shake of her head and what looked like cautious but honest puzzlement. "I don't have a husband."

The man smiled. "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk, ma'am?"

"Certainly. We can speak in my shuttle. But the space won't accomodate your men, Lieutenant."  
Gautier nodded to his partner, who had yet to speak. The partner stepped toward Gautier and Inara after a brief look at his comrades. Gautier pointed the remaining two down the cargo bay ramp to wait in the vehicle parked just outside, then turned back to Inara.

"Whenever you're ready."

Inara gestured toward the stairs. "It's this way."

"I'll be joining you as well, Lieutenant." Gautier looked at Mal almost as if he had forgotten about the Captain. "There's nothing that happens on my boat that I don't know about."

"Of course, Captain Reynolds." Gautier nodded. "As it happens, we have some questions in this matter for you as well."


	16. His Mrs Janisch Part 2

1Inara felt Mal fall into step beside her as she climbed the stairs to her shuttle, but he didn't say a word to her. Her mind was circling back, again and again, to the same questions, trying to fathom what was going on. The police? A husband? None of it made sense.

They reached the entrance to the shuttle, and Inara started in. "Miss Serra." It was Gautier's partner. "Kindly let us enter first."

Her eyes flicked to Mal, then quickly away. His expression was closed, and his eyes didn't acknowledge her at all. And Inara suspected he was no better inclined to take a hint at this moment than he ever was. They waited, side by side and wordless, then followed the investigators into the shuttle.

Inara crossed to the couch and sat down, expecting Mal to sit next to her. Instead, he leaned against a wall, crossing his arms against his chest. Only his eyes moved, all over the shuttle, as if looking for something hidden that he nonetheless knew to be there.

"We have questions for you, Miss Serra, regarding your husband." Inara still didn't know the name of the officer addressing her now. "Before you speak, please allow me to share these with you." He passed an unactivated capture across the table to her.

Inara kept her hands in her lap. "Lieutenant Gautier?" Her eyes remained locked with the detective's. "Could you do me the favor of introducing your colleague?"

"This is Detective Lun."

"How do you do, Detective." Inara nodded her head and accepted the capture.

She activated the capture, saw herself dancing with Redding Janisch. "My birthday," she murmured, almost to herself, remembering. Inara was quiet for a moment, then continued in a stronger voice. "Gentlemen, this capture was taken at a birthday dinner my friend arranged for me. It was more than eighteen months ago. I don't understand what this has to do..."

Inara paused a moment but declined to acknowledge the interruption. "Who is your friend?"

"His name is Redding Janisch. He's a businessman here on - "

"Redding Janisch is the _friend_ to whom you refer?"

"Yes."

"The friend in the capture?"

If the mismatch between Lun's friendly-sounding voice and the shrewd, nearly hostile expression on his face discomfited Inara, she chose not to show it. "That's him, yes."

"And Janisch is also a client?"  
"Yes."

The two men shared a look, and Gautier exhaled. "Quite an elaborate party. From what I can see, the flowers alone must have cost a fortune. And even I recognize some of the guests...Is all this a typical gesture between Companions and _friends_?"

Inara made sure her eyes took in both men before she spoke. "I'm afraid I don't understand the point of these questions, Detective, Lieutenant. Surely Boros law enforcement agencies aren't in the business of investigating birthday parties."

"You say birthday party. I say wedding. And so does this." The detective passed a single sheet of holo-parchment across the table to Inara. She saw Mal's eyes narrow as she reached for it. The calligraphy at the page's top was large enough for everyone to read, Inara realized. _Certificate of Marriage_. She took a moment to skim the document, letting her eyes light on Redding's name, on her own, and on the date. Her birthday, the year before last.

Inara shook her head. "This is a sham document, someone's weak idea of a joke. That's not my signature. Redding and I are not married. His firm has offices here on Boros - if you contact him, I'm sure he'll tell you so"

"That may be so, ma'am, but we'll require a retina scan to see if your print matches the one on this document. Maybe the certificate's a joke, as you say. But I'd be hard pressed to explain this as just for laughs." Gautier nodded once to Lun, then watched his colleague open the file that had held the wedding certificate.

Lun handed Inara another document, this one more business-like and covered with columns of figures. Numbers, she realized. Dates and amounts. A bank account statement. Inara looked at the bank's name - she didn't recognize it. But the account was in her name. She looked again at the column of figures, let her eyes scan to the last amount. It was quite a lot of money, more than any Companion would earn in five years. No, not a joke.

She handed the statement back to Lun, who placed it carelessly on the table. "This isn't mine."

"The account information says differently."

"I've never been to this bank, nor done any business with it. I direct all of my financial affairs through the Guild's credit union." Inara paused for a moment, looking at the bank statement, then continued in the same unruffled tone. "Lieutenant, I can see that we both have unanswered questions, but I still don't understand why you are here. It's not a crime to be married, and it's not a crime to have a bank account. But if you inquire at the bank, I daresay you'll find no one there who's ever done business with me."

"Your confidence is inspiring." The detective tapped his comm unit. "So you won't mind having a retina scan now, Miss Serra?"  
"Not at all."

The detective called his two waiting colleagues back into the ship, directing them to bring the scanning equipment. "With your permission, Captain," he added with a smile, after a deliberately long moment.

-----------------------------

Mal didn't bother responding to the man's attempt to bait him. He could feel himself growing tired, feds on his boat and coy as songbirds about the why-fors. "She asked you a question, gentlemen, it's only mannerly to answer." Mal leaned down and picked up the bank account statement, tried not to react to the number at the bottom of the column. It was enough to buy _Serenity _several times over. He put the document back on the table and moved to the couch, sat near enough to Inara that no one could wedge between them. Mal saw what the detectives were doing, calling in their lackeys, trying to make her feel crowded and unsure. Now, close to Inara was close to him as well. _Might give them pause_. He had a moment's pause himself then, when Inara caught his eye. Her look wasn't cold, exactly, and he wasn't expecting _grateful_, but she didn't look happy to have him beside her, looked like she wished she were free to shoo him away. Too bad for her, he wasn't going nowhere.

Gautier ignored Mal. "Why would someone open an account in your name, only your name, and go to the trouble of adding to it forty-five times throughout the last year and a half? It doesn't make sense." He looked pointedly around the shuttle. "A lot doesn't make sense here."

"Such as?"

"Why is a registered Companion at the top of your Guild's highest compensation tier leasing a shuttle in a fourth-rate cargo ship one rusty inch from obsolescence? Granted, your rent's got to be a pittance compared to what the ladies on the big cruise ships pay, is that it?"

Her face was so calm, and her voice, when she spoke, so gentle. Mal knew she wasn't giving away anything she didn't want to. "I don't see why my business decisions merit police inquiry."

"You can cooperate with us here, Miss Serra, or you can accompany me to my offices downtown. Your choice."

"You have a choice as well, Lieutenant. You can answer my perfectly reasonable question about the purpose of your visit here, or I will contact the Guild's legal department and you can route all your inquiries through my attorneys. That is, after you explain to them and to your superiors the need for a contingent of four Boros lawmen to ask me about my birthday party and someone else's bank account. The Guild doesn't suffer its members being _interviewed " _and her scorn was somehow apparent here, though she'd barely modulated her voice, "without cause."

"I've spent my entire career on Boros, ma'am, so I understand the Guild's legal power. It's also clear, Miss Serra, that you might have some explaining to do yourself, were I to bother myself with an inquiry into the business of your landlord, here. Captain Reynolds might have to _suffer_ more than an interview. _You're_ not under Guild protection, are you, Captain?"

Mal gave an irritated half-shrug. "Inara's not a party to any of _Serenity_'s business."

"I'm sure not, but I wager I could make trouble for you - and even if that doesn't bother your tenant, it could take months to satisfy the Guild's legal department of her innocence Your Guild holds all you ladies to quite a high standard of propriety, doesn't it?" Gautier looked up as the two officers crossed the threshold with their equipment, all bold eyes and coyote smiles. "Ah, here's the scanner. Will you indulge me?"

Inara nodded and the lieutenant leaned in close. In a moment it was done.

"Shall we continue with the interview?"

Inara nodded again, as tranquilly as if he'd asked how she liked the afternoon's weather.

"So, I figure, a woman like you on a ship like this, there's a handful of reasons. Money. Love. Opportunity. Or, you're hiding something."

"Those are all very good reasons, Lieutenant." Mal's eyes were on the fed, and he saw the man puff up, almost unwillingly, at Inara's praise. "But please consider the obvious. Simple choice. I am where I choose to be."

"That's disingenuous, Miss Serra. Why _choose_ _to be _here? I know in your business, you've got plenty of overhead expenses even beyond your Guild dues and withholdings. Looking, dressing like you do can't be done on the cheap. But you don't come cheap, do you?" The man was troubling less and less to hide his insinuations. "So is it the money that keeps you here, or something else?"

Inara smiled faintly, patiently. "Living on _Serenity_ affords me the a flexible means of traveling quickly - "

"Maybe some other kind of itch?" Gautier turned to Mal. "I know the Guild's contract says no rent for services, but have you really _never _had the pleasure, Captain? Not even once?"

"She doesn't like me much." Mal looked at Inara for the first time, and a remote part of him wondered at how unaffected she seemed. He shrugged. "Truth be told, my manners are no better than yours."

"Retina scans aren't a match, Lieutenant. Damn close, though." The officer handed the scanner and the certificate to Gautier.

"Might I trouble you, Lieutenant, to explain what this is all about?" She was still so tranquil, and no hint of relief at her vindication in the matter. "I can't imagine - "

"It's still up to me to find out what you've been imagining, and with whom, Miss Serra." Gautier paused and smiled grimly. "Your friend Janisch is in police custody, ma'am. That investing he's been doing with his firm - we poor, unsophisticated public servants call it fraud. So do the dozens of people he's left penniless. He's stolen a lot of money these past few years, and we mean to see who helped him do it."

Her face didn't change at all - Mal would have thought she'd at least glance at the bank statement, still on the table in front of them, an obvious link to this new piece of information.

"That's a very serious allegation, Lieutenant. I've known Redding Janisch for years - he's from a very well-respected Sihnoni family. He's never - "

"We'll be contacting your Guild to request access to any and all of your business records related to Janisch. How long has he been a client?"

"Nearly six years."

"And how often did he engage your services?"

"Fairly often when we both lived on Sihnon, less frequently when he moved to Boros. He would sometimes fly home and..." Inara's voice changed. "This is all rather a waste of your time, Lieutenant. The records you spoke of will - "

Gautier nodded his agreement, but then leaned in and adopted a confidential tone. "Miss Serra, did Janisch ever give you money? Besides the subscription fee for your registry and for each engagement. Anything over and above, like a...tip?"

She was utterly collected, seeming not to move at all, but this time Mal saw Inara's posture draw subtly more erect in response to the ugly question."He always remembered my birthday. He took me sailing once, arranged a party another time. The theater, a special dinner. And he always brought flowers, usually from his own garden, he knows I love them." Inara smiled gently, her eyes steady on the lieutenant's. "For my last birthday we were apart, but he did give me earrings. They were a present, lieutenant, beautifully wrapped - he gave them to me at breakfast on our first morning together after my birthday. It's not customary on Boros to gift wrap tips, is it?"

The lieutenant stood watching Inara closely for a long moment. Then he spoke, as his eyes fell away. "We'll be in touch." Gautier turned to Mal. "Captain, a moment of your time, please, as we make our way -"

_Off of my fourth rate, nigh obsolete cargo ship?_ Mal kept the scowl off his face, kept his hands unclenched, kept his eyes off Inara. "Of course." He stepped close to the smaller man, and allowed himself a mental chuckle of satisfaction as the lieutenant moved to the side, instinctively leaving space between them. _Because no one fancies bein' punched in the head_, Mal thought to himself.

They walked down the stairs, past Jayne, and to the edge of the cargo bay's entrance. Gautier nodded to his men, and they moved down the ramp and into their vehicle. Gautier turned to Mal. When he spoke, his voice was noticeably lower than before.

"Have you ever seen Miss Serra engage in any questionable activities?"

"I have not."

"So, no illicit drugs? No gambling?" Mal shook his head at the detective. "Maybe she has initiated relations with other members of your crew." Gautier inclined his head backwards slightly, indicating where Jayne was working at the back of the cargo bay.

Mal turned away from Gautier, squinted into the brighter light of the afternoon outside. "Not to my knowledge, and folk on this ship ain't what you'd call discreet."

Gautier considered this for a moment. "Does she absent herself from the ship without notice? I've checked your flight logs, you land in some rough places." His eyes narrowed speculatively. " Is that the appeal? So very elegant, almost regal, but she wouldn't be the first cultured lady with a well-hidden fondness for the common touch."

Mal told himself he'd tolerated worse, conversations more objectionable than having to entertain this man's prurient imaginings of Inara, trolling the docks to satisfy her craving for some anonymous, tawdry rutting. An imagining of his own, a vision of this man, bleeding and with a well-broken jaw, allowed Mal to smile and keep his voice measured. "Don't think that's so in this case."

"Then why is she here?" Gautier's gesture took in the entire ship. "I've looked into her Guild profile already. She was the golden girl of her class from the most respected House on Sihnon, went to the very top of their pay scale almost immediately after her premiere. Do you know what it takes to earn her _affections_?" The man shook his head. "Whatever she's paying you in rent, you ought to treble it." Gautier paused near the top of the ramp, lowered his voice. "You can be frank with me. I'll see to it that you're shielded from prosecution if she was using the shuttle to perpetrate this fraud without your knowledge."

"There's honestly nothing to tell. She don't fit here, that's plain, but I don't indulge in the luxury of turning away a paying tenant. And I won't waste your time on speculation. Never seen her be anything less than aboveboard in her dealings with others. You say this Janisch fooled a lot of people. Might be she's one of them."

The lieutenant shrugged at this, unlovely interest still lighting his eyes. "Might be." He turned toward his vehicle. "Good afternoon Captain."


	17. His Mrs Janisch Part 3

1She heard him stomping his way up the steps as she finished her call, nodding to her friend.

"Dont worry yourself overmuch, you haven't done anything wrong." Seneca's face softened, but Inara could see the wheels still turning behind the Companion's eyes. "And you won't be alone, _mei mei_."

"I appreciate that." Inara didn't trust herself to say more against the thickness that had suddenly taken hold in her throat at her friend's last words.

"We'll talk in the morning, if not before."

Inara nodded and ended the wave. She turned to see Mal, stiff and falsely casual, glowering his way through her doorway.

"Any light you care to shed on this afternoon's entertainment, 'Nara?" The tense smile, the one she hated.

Inara tried to meet his eyes and found anger there. Federal officers on his ship, because of her. "I'm as surprised as you are. And I want to apologize for any trouble this has caused you, " she said softly.

"Really? Because if there's anything you neglected to mention to me," Mal's words grew faster, his voice louder, "about an additional revenue stream, or a _husband_, now would be the time to - " His scowl turned accusing and wild. "Is he more than a friend to you? Is that man your husband?"

Inara was astonished by the questions, by the focus of his angry words. "You heard me say he's not, Mal. Why in the world would I hide such a thing?" She felt a sting of bitter hurt that he'd known her, lived with her all these months and felt the need to question her truthfulness.

Mal shrugged, looked restlessly around the shuttle for a moment, spoke in a lower tone. "Might could hurt a Companion's business prospects, her clients knowing she's married and off the market anything long term. Think it could affect how a man feels about you, knowing that no matter what he does, he's got no chance of - "

"My clients know exactly what to expect when I accept a contract, because I'm straightforward with them. I don't deal in falsehoods."

"I suppose it's not your fault," Mal turned away, his voice low and splintered, "anything a man might pretend to himself when you're sleeping next to him."

"I don't sleep next to my clients." How incongruous, the memory, Inara thought. The sweetness of waking up wrapped in the arms of the man who was stalking around her shuttle, not looking at her, every line of his body tense and aggravated. He was rattling her, and she'd said too much. "That is, when I accept a - the Guild has established parameters for the manner in which clients accomodate a Companion on an overnight engagement."  
"Fascinating." His voice was flat. Mal turned back to Inara. "I won't be happy to have the law sniffing around here again, 'Nara."

Inara was relieved. Dealing with a hostile Mal was a familiar dance, and she wouldn't make another misstep.

"Then we agree. I've now been through two interrogations," she looked at him pointedly, "and it's not yet four o'clock. Did you have some additional invasive and presumptuous questions to ask? Maybe a rehash of some of the uglier insinuations the police undoubtedly poured in your ear on their way out of my home? It may be a novel circumstance for you to imagine, but I haven't done anything wrong."

Mal's words drawled out slow and accusing. "Cept maybe deciding a man's worth your trust because of a fashionable business address and a knack for picking out birthday trinkets."

"You may be right. Maybe I've been a fool. But Janisch has been my friend for years - do you blame me for hoping he'll be vindicated? Or has it been so long since you've trusted _anyone_ that you don't remember the feeling?" She was suddenly exhausted, out of any strength or inclination to fight with Mal. She just needed him to go away so she could think. The marriage certificate, the bank account - someone had gone to the trouble to hide that money, and Inara couldn't help but wonder who and why.

"What's your next move?" In a neutral voice.

Since he hadn't gone away, she was at least relieved at the practical question. "I've spoken to a friend in the Guild's legal department. The Guild will turn over my financial records concerning this client, and will request a copy of the Boros investigators' findings with respect to the bank account. Since no one there will have done business with me regarding this account or any other, they have no reason to harass me further." Inara sank onto the couch, privately grateful for its soft support against her back. "Seneca says there will be a hearing in a few days, but it's only a formality." And she needed to speak to Janisch, but didn't mention that. Inara really didn't want to hear another round of Mal's angry moralizing about how she'd misplaced her trust.

He met her eyes then, nodded twice, and left.

-----------------

Zoe was waiting for Mal at the bottom of the steps. "Wydell called."

"Why for?" Mal strode past her, and Zoe followed him on his way through the cargo bay.

"Seems he's got eyes on us. And our company this afternoon made him anxious."

Mal threw the question over his shoulder. "Anxious in any particular way?"

"Anxious in an 'I'm taking my goods and my tooth and going elsewhere for my smuggling needs' kind of way." Zoe frowned at her Captain's back. "He's pulling out of the job."

"That ain't happening." Mal stopped and shook his head, barked a humorless, manic laugh as he turned and caught Zoe's eye. "We're doing the job we came here for, one way or another. Wydell might just need some convincing."

"Would that be the kind of convincing that's also described as breaking and entering, stealing the goods before Wydell can hire out another crew, sir?"

"He's a little insecure right now - just needs to know we're here for him." The look on Mal's face wouldn't have reassured anyone.

"I'd say he needs to know we're not going to the job with a handful of feds tagging along."

"Besides, we're not _stealing _stealing - we'll pay him his share, soon as we deliver the cargo."

"So when do we go?"

"Soon as possible - while he's still got the goods. But we'll want to put an eye on him - bad luck to show up when there's another crew there - end up having to fight twice as many."

"Jayne?"

Mal nodded.

"Ill let him know the particulars." Zoe set off to find Jayne,

------------------------

Mal found Kaylee in the galley, opening cabinet doors, looking, closing them again.

"Is 'Nara all right, Cap'n?" dejected voice

"I expect she will be. Looks like one of her gentlemen did some extra fancy accounting, used her name where he ought not have." Mal shrugged, opened a cabinet door.

"I saw. I looked on the cortex, local Boros news feed. That Janisch fella, her client, the one that she always -" Kaylee broke off abruptly, frowned. "His picture's on all the channels. Couple have Inara too." She rubbed at an ancient stain on the counter with a worried finger. "Some are saying he stole all that money to keep her. Like she's some kind of greedy - " Her eyes darkened and she would not finish the thought.

Mal filled and emptied a cup, then rinsed it out. "People saying it don't make it so."

"Ain't right, they get to talk stuff about her such a way. Like to give 'em all a thrashin', sayin' mean things and gettin' paid for it."

Don't start making a list about what ain't right in this 'verse,_ mei mei_." Mal dried the cup and stowed it. "How was your birthday outing? Am I in the company of the fanciest mechanic on Boros?"  
Kaylee smiled gratefully. "You are. I liked that place Cap'n, if I had the jingles I'd spend a whole day there." She skated her finger along the crusted edge of the galley's ancient sink, then snatched it back. "Look!" Kaylee held up her fingers and wiggled.

Mal squinted at Kaylee's decorated fingertips, silver and black with some kind of yellow-green at each rounded edge. He noticed the expectation on Kaylee's face, answered with a vague smile.

"See what I got?" Her voice warmed as she teased him. "With the birthday coin from my _Captain_?" Kaylee's eyebrows jumped up even further. "Cap'n, it's _fireflies_!"

"Ah. Very nice."

"Thanks to you." She tilted one shiny thumb back and forth, watched it catch the light, and sighed. "Probably won't last very long, but they're pretty. How long's your crime gonna take?"

"Not sure."

"Well, get back in time for cake." Kaylee patted his hand. "I'm gonna go see Inara."

Her friend had waved him later that day, formal and proper, introduced herself as a liason from the Guild's legal office. He'd remembered her name, her face from months back, she'd been with Inara at that wedding when he'd waved and they'd all been...resting...in their sleep clothes, on that big bed. But Seneca gave no acknowledgement of their previous acquaintance when she requested his permission to visit _Serenity_ and meet with Inara. "At your convenience, of course, Captain Reynolds."

So he was waiting in the cargo bay and saw her coach arrive and let her off just steps from the ramp. She looked as out of place as, well, as Inara always did in these spots. Her stride was quick and purposeful as she greeted him.

"Thank you for your consideration in this matter, I am sure Inara appreciates being able to limit her exposure to the curious."

"No trouble." Mal turned, nodding at the stairs. "I'll show you where - "

But Inara was already coming down. Walking a bit faster than usual, holding tight and letting go of the rail with every step. Not like she usually did. "Thank you for coming." Nothing emotional or revelatory in the words, but in her voice Mal heard gratitude

And Seneca only nodded, held out her arms, and drew Inara into a close hug. He was watching, he saw when it happened and it wasn't until then that he realized. As Inara leaned, relaxed, nearly melted against her friend, he saw how brittle she'd been, how tensely she'd been holding herself. How upset, how hurt. It had been invisible, to him at least, until she was in the arms of someone who knew her, loved her, offered her strength and she could finally let it go.  
Mal thought just then about all of the things he'd said to her, in his anger and suspicion over the capture and the feds and the money and the gorramn marriage license. Things that surely hadn't made any of it one speck easier for her. Quite the opposite. She'd learned, that day, that a man she called friend, a client yes but also the man who'd known her well enough to sail with her, dance with her, bring her flowers and throw her a birthday party, that he'd likely been using her as part of the cover for whatever kind of thieving he'd done. She'd been betrayed. And he'd made it worse, because he'd looked at Prince Charming in the capture and felt it scraping at him, the certainty that if she were to marry, it would be a man like that. Everything he wasn't. And when the prince turned out not to be so perfect, he'd been happy. Like it was some kind of lesson she needed to learn. Self-disgust, too familiar, he felt it get up and go strolling about his mind. Kicking at things he scarce remembered were there.

Seneca settled a hand against Inara's back, soothingly, whispering a few soft words into her ear. Nodding as Inara, her face still pressed into her friend's shoulder, shook her head. Giving her comfort, making her feel better and not worse. Something he would probably never figure out how to do, even if was ever him she needed in the least.

------------------

"All this time, he was playing me, and I couldn't tell." It was the first thing Inara had said, after listening to Seneca's recitation of the evidence against Janisch. She glanced at the closed door, then back to her friend. "Maybe I wanted him to be perfect - maybe his accomplishments and his charm made me overlook the kind of man he really was."

"He calculated every move - everything he said and did was intended to earn your trust, the trust of everyone around him. How can you blame yourself for that? He fooled all of us, my dear. Even his own family didn't know what his firm was doing." Seneca went on, in a quieter voice. "Inara, did you love him?"

Inara shook her head, laughed sadly. "I actually worried about him, fearing his attachment to me was more than I could return! Can you imagine anything so stupid?"

Seneca took Inara's hand. "It's not stupid to care about people. It's not stupid to trust."

Inara sat quietly beside her friend for a long moment. "What's going to happen at this hearing?"

"You'll be asked how often you saw each other, how often you were in touch. What he mentioned about his business, if he named any partners or associates. If he ever offered any business propositions to you; if he ever made or took calls while you were with him."

"I'd like to speak to Janisch first."

"I doubt the police will allow that. They'll want to hear your story before you've had any chance to find out what Redding has told them. In any case, they'll be listening to everything you say. What do you hope to accomplish?"  
Inara had been waiting for the sound; the rattling of the shuttle's locked door, the stacatto raps against its surface. She crossed to the door, kept her hand from the latch while she answered. "I want to meet the real Redding Janisch. I just want to know." She opened the door and stepped aside as Mal crossed the threshold.

"I'll arrange it." Seneca waited until Inara's eyes met hers. "But my dear, there will be press outside the facility where he's being held. You won't be able to avoid them."

Mal nodded at Seneca. "She won't go alone."

Inara turned, moved to stand between Mal and Seneca. She shook her head. "You can't come with me."

Mal looked from Seneca to Inara. "This man ought to answer for the trouble he's caused you."

"And he will." Inara answered firmly. "He'll answer to _me_. Having you there with me would only make things much worse." She moved to her wardrobe, opened it, retrieved a small satchel, and placed it on her bed.

"Worse how? I won't - that is, I know this mess ain't your - "

Inara opened her satchel, then turned back to Mal. "Can you imagine what the local news will make of it when I show up with a large, angry-looking, armed Browncoat at my side? They'll either speculate you're in collusion with Janisch and me. or they'll insinuate I've moved on and you're the latest man I've sexually enthralled to do my bidding." She shook her head, grim resolve on her face. "I won't give them the satisfaction."

Inara thought for a moment, then nodded at her friend, and spoke again. "I'll be staying with Seneca until this is resolved. The Guild has a small apartment house, and a few of my friends are on their way." Her voice trailed off. "And I don't want to make more trouble for you."

---------------------------

Mal stood for a moment, watching her pack, before mumbling something at both women and taking his leave. _I don't want to make more trouble for you_. What could he say to that? What reply might he craft, that would make one particle of sense? That if she ever said she needed him, he'd stand by her and deal with whatever _go se _that dirty weasel Gautier or anyone else sent his way? Sure, he was what she needed. Judgemental, bad-tempered, a bottom-of-the-barrel smuggler and thief.

Besides, she had friends coming to circle the wagons. And he had an illegal job to salvage with the judicious, timely, discreet application of more crime.


	18. His Mrs Janisch Part 5

1Mal's face settled back into the frown he'd been exercising the last few days. The job might have gone smooth, it wasn't like they didn't have a chance to make it so. Jayne had watched Wydell's place all day, had given them enough opportunity to get into place before the meet with the usurping crew. As it happened, they'd got into place just fine, thanks to the intel from little Kaylee, eyeballing Wydell's crappy excuse for a security system with the video feed Jayne was sending her. "Hardly better than a NO GIRLS ALLOWED sign and a rawhide loop on the doorknob," she'd scoffed, incredulous, before telling Zoe what she needed to do to put it to sleep.

Found the goods, hauled ass getting them stole and on the mule, quiet and fast. Didn't know punk Wydell had a punk kid who liked to sneak into the warehouse and root around lookin' for Daddy's stash of recreationals. Skinny, sweaty punk kid who was too young to shoot but too far away to brain, even when he peeked out from behind the crate and warned them off, in a voice that cracked and whistled with fear.

So Wydell's pack of geniuses came howlin' down upon them in the alley behind the place. Enough light to see them by, so Wydell knew it was them, even if he was in no shape to follow after Zoe beat him loose as a secondhand shoestring. Had to unload the goods to Peebles, in the interest of time, even though Peebles was the stingiest _hun dan_ on Boros. The take ended up laughably paltry, barely half of what Mal's usual contact would have paid. And Jayne'd gotten stabbed before they got away.

He'd seen worry-faced Kaylee, hustling after Jayne as he lurched out of the infirmary, padded up with gauze, stinking and surly as a hungover rhinoceros. The coin he'd earned, such as it was, very nearly made the stabbing worse. Insult to injury. And Wash's opinion was plain to read on his face. Same as ever.

He was halfway up the steps to her shuttle when he remembered Inara wasn't there, her Guild had drawn her in for counsel and protection No accusation in any of their eyes, he supposed. No reason to be ashamed, among them, of asking for help and comfort. Of doing what needed doing during a long few days' wait, talking the worry and the sorrow down into exhaustion, looking into sympathetic faces while the hard thoughts came.

She'd pretended like she didn't need any of it. And he'd let her pretend. Why the hell was she on his ship? And after she was back amongst those that loved her and didn't trouble to hide it, what chance was there of her ever coming back?

---------------------------------

"I wanted to hear what you had to say privately." Inara broke the silence that had billowed out between them after Janisch's rueful, fond greeting in the shabby grey meeting room at police headquarters.

Redding drew a breath, caught her eye. "Surely you know, my dear, that this interview isn't private." The same warm, delighted smile he'd shown her so many times over the years, the smile that said _I adore you, everything about you_. Affectionate. Indulgent. So convenient.

Inara kept her eyes on his face, kept her tone even, didn't return the smile. "I meant us, face to face. Before you have to go to court."

Redding nodded and sighed, casting his eyes down, his expression now completely somber. He reached for the hand that rested in her lap, wrapped his own hand around it and squeezed. "I'm so sorry, _bao bei_. So very sorry."

Inara drew a deep, shaky breath before she went on with a question, although it was not the one she most needed to ask. "Redding, what happened?"

"My plan was to stop when I'd gotten enough." Another smile, self-deprecating and regretful. "My plan was not to get caught. I got caught." He delivered the last remark with a tired little shrug.

"Enough for what?" Inara schooled the incredulous anger from her voice. She'd read a few of the news reports and she knew how much he'd been accused of taking.

"Enough to disappear - start life over on some twee little Rim world, a gentleman farmer and his lady fair." The gentle pressure around her hand would have been so pleasant, a few days ago .

Inara closed her eyes and turned her face away. "So you opened that account, forged those documents - "

"The plan was much more entertaining in my imagination. As I envisioned it, no one found me out."

She drew her hand away and let it rest in her lap again. Her eyes were steady on his as she spoke. "But you _were_ found out. And that money, that marriage certificate brought investigators into my home. Where I sat, Redding, and defended you while they threatened my career. Your actions exposed me to vile and degrading innuendo on every news outlet on Boros."

"I know it must have been awful for you. And Inara, please believe that I never meant for that to happen. I took pains, all along, to insulate you from what I was doing. To make sure you would be found blameless."

"How could you do any of it? Take the money of the people who trusted you?" Inara recalled, with a sickened clarity, so many events they'd attended together; parties, dinners, a weekend they'd spent as guests at the lake house of some friends. Victims.

"Those people took risks because of their greed over the returns I promised." Redding's own dear face, his familiar, affectionate smile, only how was it she'd never seen how completely dispassionate he could be? "They couldn't be satisfied with the more modest percentages they'd get with other investors. And Inara, my clients are wealthy and well-insured. I've sent no one scavenging for his next meal."

Inara shook her head, dismissing his justification. "Was it worth throwing your life away? Your reputation?"

"I'm not going to prison. I may be under house arrest during the appeals process." Redding shrugged. "You know my house, I'll be comfortable. The one thing I never did, my love, was cheat my lawyers."  
"You might have made an honest living. An enviable living." Inara let her eyes touch the chipped paint on the walls, the one grimy window in the dreary little room. She didn't want to look at him. "You didn't have to cheat anyone."

"Oh my dear, I can't bear to see you so somber. And I'm truly, truly sorry." Redding took a breath, looked at Inara, shook his head. "It's just - once I had the idea, all the pieces, every detail seemed to fall into place with such clarity. It was a beautiful experience, really. I couldn't resist seeing if I could get away with it."

Inara's voice was quiet. "I would never have gone with you, Redding."

"I think I knew that all along. And, believe me my dear, I truly admire you for it. In my dream, the romance of my proposal," Redding laughed a little at this, but didn't meet her eyes "and the really big account in your name - would have persuaded you, but I always had my doubts." The room fell quiet for a long moment. His voice was different when he spoke again. "Don't be anxious, the police already have my statement about you. They know you aren't to blame."

"How nice for them." She looked right at him then and saw his expression change at what he'd seen in her eyes.

Here was the question she'd told herself she wouldn't ask, that to broach the subject was inevitably fruitless, but Inara found herself voicing it anyway. "Was any of it real? I thought we were friends. And please, I'd rather know the truth."

Redding shook his head quickly a few times, his eyes wide with dismay. "Of course it was real." His voice was raw, straining. "I adore you, _bao bei_. How could I not?"

Inara shook her head in frustration.

"You don't have to give up on me." He reached and took her hand once more, interlacing her cold fingers through his own. "It'll be such an inspiring story. You could be the good woman who has faith in me through my darkest hour, the instrument of my redemption." Janisch smiled, his effervescent charm once more in place, the emotionality of a moment ago seemingly gone. He had pronounced the last few words with good-humored relish, but then paused and went on in a low and earnest voice. "I can see the error of my ways. I can be an honest man."

Inara had a sudden, horrified premonition of what he might say next. "Redding, stop."

"Inara, please, I was trying to admit some levity, get you to smile at least a little?" His face was sorrowful as he shook his head. "If I thought I'd transgressed beyond hope of your forgiveness - I would regret it more deeply than I can say."

"This is not a matter for forgiveness. Things are as they are, as they were from the beginning." Inara fell silent then, listening for a long time to the muffled traffic sounds outside the walls. "The only difference is, now I know the truth between us. It's not a comfortable truth, but I'm glad to know it." She rose. "Goodbye, Redding."

Zoe handed Wash her shirt, leaning to pull off her boots and trousers. Wash stuffed the shirt into their tiny clothes hamper, then nodded at his wife as she handed him the rest of her clothing. She'd need something fresh to wear for dinner, something that didn't have job-gone-wrong stink all over it.

She sighed, stretched out on the bed and looked at the ceiling. Her husband was watching her. After a moment he sat sideways on the bed and slid up next to her, bending one arm to prop his head.

"There was no reason for Mal to go after this job when Wydell called it off." His voice was low, quietly tense.

Zoe searched his face, his weary eyes, so blue. "Wydell was jumpier than he needed to be about the feds."

Wash nodded at her a few times, fast. "Jumpy. Oh, yes. I see jumpy. The stabby kind of jumpy." He got quiet, stretched out the silence, and his jaw set. "It could have been you."

He wasn't wrong. He was more right than Zoe wanted to admit. And with the price they'd gotten from Peebles, there was no chance of making up with Wydell.

Wash hadn't waited for her reply. "He didn't even check the docks' registry, see about taking another job. I know, the registry might put eyes on us that Mal doesn't want, but honestly, Zoe, what are the odds of finding someone _worse_ than Wydell and his gang? Would a half-decent trader be so bad for a change? Someone not totally crooked?"

Zoe exhaled, taking a private mental inventory of everything that was going to be sore in the morning. "We've done jobs for Wydell before. He ain't the worst we know."

"Which is kinda my point, ladylove." Wash's eyes were intent upon hers.

Zoe nodded, acknowledging. "I'm careful."

"Careful enough to make up for when Mal's not? Which is, let's see, all the time!"

"There was a chance the plan would have worked."

"Would you ever tell him no, Zoe? Because that 'til death do us part' stuff?" Wash was shaking his head as he spoke, his mouth twisted with difficult emotion. "I'm in no hurry to get there."

"I have. And I will, whenever it needs saying. I need you to trust me on that." Zoe trailed her fingers across her husband's brow and down one cheekbone. She smiled tenderly. "I've got someone to come home to now, and that I do not forget." The last she spoke in a whisper, her heart welling with love and gratitude.

Wash was quiet for a moment, his face still troubled. Zoe watched him, wondering if this were the day, the talk she'd always known was coming. Then he leaned in close, starting to smile as he kissed her.

-------------------------

Inara closed the door behind her and saw Gautier step into the corridor from a door just a few meters away. She expected it, she had known he was there and understood what it meant that he took no trouble to hide it.

Gautier angled his head to one side as he gave her a close, speculative look. "I would have bet on a different story, myself." He shrugged. "You aren't the only one he fooled. Got away easier than most."

Inara made no reply. After a long moment, Gautier stepped to the side, motioning with his hand that she might pass. She started toward the exit door and the friends who waited on the benches just inside, but paused when Gautier spoke again.

"There's still no way it makes a jot of sense, you on that old cargo ship." His voice was shrewd, nearly accusing.

Inara stopped at that and turned to face him as she drew herself perfectly erect. "And it's still none of your business."


	19. His Mrs Janisch Part 6

Janisch had made his statement, the courts had no more interest in Inara, and still she hadn't come home. Mal wondered if the little shuttle was her home anymore, remembering how she'd said the word, first time they'd met. He looked at the empty cortex screen, at the time, at the buttons beside the screen, back at the screen. His fingers slowly tapped at the arms of his chair as he sat.

He'd seen a brief vid of her on the Cortex. The local news feed about the trial had shown her leaving the building in the company of four other Companion-looking types. She'd looked - she'd looked like she always looked. Maybe a bit more serious, and she didn't usually walk quite so slow. With a crush of speculating, bold faces and cameras around her, anyone would think she'd put the speed on...

Mal had watched as she'd had to stop, something or other holding up her progress to the Guild's waiting coach. She surprised him then, picked her head up and looked all around at the crowd pressing in on her, at their expectant faces. Mal saw what she didn't show - impatience, anger, shame, fear, none of it. Several of the press called out congratulations to her - the earlier suggestive insinuations were gone, she was their darling now, they were her champions, they would adore her forever. Mal listened to their effusive, confident narration of her beauty, her pride, her honesty. Inara responded then with a movement too slight to be called a nod or a shake, and took the last few steps to the coach. She was Inara, just as ever.

And she still wasn't home. Unless she _was_, unless home for her was now a place he did not know and could not find.

Mal shifted in the seat, activated the cortex, searched through the wave log and sent a signal to where Inara's friend had called from. Wasn't Inara who answered - Mal had not thought she would.

"Captain Reynolds." There was a window behind Seneca, open, expansive, framing a view of glossy-leaved trees and shining water beyond the golden, dancing silk of the curtains.

"Seneca." Mal remembered the foreign, complicated phrase that was her surname, but had been given to understand it was only used for ceremonial purposes. "Good afternoon." Mal nodded. "I was calling to find out any particulars Inara could give me - "

"She's gone to the Guild offices to finalize some business with regard to - " Seneca paused, adjusted her posture against the cushioned back of her chair, made a dismissive gesture with one hand, "all of this."

"Oh." What might that mean? Neither of them spoke for several moments. "If you'd be so kind as to tell her, I wanted to - that is, there's a job that I've committed to taking. Off-world."

"I'll let her know. She and Corrinne should be back soon." Seneca glanced away toward something Mal could not see, then met his eyes again with the same direct expression he'd remembered from her visit to _Serenity_.

He'd thought to end the conversation there, surprised himself with his next remark. "Good that she's got folk to see to her."

"We take care of our Sisters." Seneca smiled, musing. "And Inara has always been special."

Another nod. "You got any notion of how long she might be?"

Seneca considered the question. "Janisch has formally requested that Inara join the board of directors at his firm. Now that she's been exonerated, he's confident her presence will restore public faith in his company. And for their part, the board has indicated an interest in exploring the possibility with her."

Mal had a swift, nonsensical vision of Inara, in her fanciest gown and jewels, sitting at a wooden desk, tapping into an adding machine by the light of a dusty gas lamp, delicate glasses perched on her nose."She'd be some kind of bookkeeper?"

"More like an executive, participating in discussions on policy matters," Seneca paused at this first example, seeming to sift through her thoughts. Her fingers danced a brief, open gesture through the air before she went on. "Meeting with investors. There are many retired Companions in prominent business and government positions on Boros."

Mal held her gaze, kept his expression mild. "That's quite an opportunity." Surely good enough to make her wake up and look clear at the rattletrap cargo ship she'd been calling home, and decide that she'd had enough - enough of whatever it was that put her on his ship in the first place.

Seneca inclined her head, signalling her agreement. "Inara is by no means an expert in finance, but she's smart; she could learn enough to participate meaningfully." Her expression softened. "And she feels for those that Janisch has defrauded."

_Shoulda let her have that passel of gorramn orphans, then she'd have someone here to care for_, Mal thought angrily before mocking himself for his own foolishness. _Great plan, dumbass. Whyn't you surprise her with a puppy, too?_

Mal drew a breath and exhaled, frowning as his eyes registered the worn, smudged control buttons to the left of the cortex screen. "Well, they'll be lucky to have her looking out for them." He looked up then, meeting Seneca's eyes. "Just have her contact _Serenity_, let us know where she needs - " A glance behind Seneca, at the elegantly furnished apartment they occupied, and Mal found he couldn't go on. Inara had found better, in so many ways. She'd come back to say good-bye, that was her mannerly way, but then she'd go. Go to where she'd be prosperous, comfortable, safe. Surrounded by friends and doing business with people she could help, people who could say _thank you_, who could see how wonderful she was and let it show.

He'd never see her again. The realization emptied him. And following dogged on the heels of the pain came a deflating, sodden relief. She was gone. She wasn't coming back. Nothing that might have happened, would. But at least it was over. Over and done with. He didn't have to wonder any more, or try not to. Least it weren't him that drove her away, in the end.

"She's not taking the job, Captain Reynolds." Seneca was watching him very intently and not altogether warmly while she said this.

Two feelings opposed themselves in his gut. the clinging hollowness of a moment ago, and the barely tolerable - what? - hope? that charged him now.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "She's sure on that point?"

Seneca's eyes searched his face. "Entirely sure." For a moment, it sounded as though she were about to say more.

"She say why?" Caution and pessimism reined him in. Inara wasn't taking the job. That didn't mean she was coming back to _Serenity_. Wasn't smart of him to assume she was short on options. And she had Sisters here.

"He had us all fooled." Seneca's voice had changed. Mal heard anger and frustration, a hurt that sounded far more personal than anything she'd shared. "All of us It's the most painful part of the whole ugly mess." She looked away from the monitor, then quickly down before going on. "Inara was to be his fail-safe. In case he got caught. Janisch picked her out years ago - people trust Inara. He thought having her by his side would buy him a second chance." Her eyes glittered. "And not one of us saw what he was doing with our Sister."

Mal nodded. "I'm sure it was a comfort to her, you coming here to see her through it."

"It was the least I could do." Seneca's voice was calm and smooth again. She fixed him with a cool speculation that Mal recognized immediately, although it was usually him doing the speculating. "Inara knows that we are here for her, whenever she needs us. And no one hurts my Sister without answering for it. "

Mal was still registering the surprise of this threat, and the meaning behind it, when he said his good byes and ended the wave.

* * *

Inara spotted _Serenity_ out the tinted window of the Guild's coach as it drove haltingly through the clogged lanes that led to the docks. The driver - Nola, Inara remembered - was, of course, too discreet to comment on, or seem to take any notice of, the kind of spacecraft parked at this end of the docks, but Inara detected a tiny change in the woman's posture. It was entirely prudent, Inara had to acknowledge, letting her eyes register as new all the things she'd grown accustomed to in her months on Serenity. The sticky, puddled pedestrian area was as crowded as the motor lanes, but the walkers moved unusually slowly. Some were appraising, challenging each other; others were clearly taking pains to avoid bumping into or otherwise offending those around them.

The vessels themselves would be fear-provoking to the cautious and the sane, Inara admitted privately. The hulls sported dents and extravagant scratches, not the meticulous polish of more respectable ships. More than one was adorned with politically abrasive or cheerfully pornographic images. And the people lingering near any open cargo bay troubled little to hide their weapons.

Even among these ships, _Serenity_ stood out, Inara saw. It was smaller and shabbier than most, although she noticed with a smile that the little ship's windows were gleaming and clean. And that wasn't the only difference - as her coach drew nearer, Inara saw a face silhouetted against the light coming from the cargo bay's side door, watching steadily down the road. The face bobbed, up, then down and nearly out of sight, then up again. It was Kaylee, bouncing on her toes, Inara realized. Her friend was waiting to welcome her home. Inara laughed softly, then looked down at her own hand, finding with surprise that it had moved to the coach's cool metal door handle. She patted the small bag beside her, then folded her hands back in her lap and waited the last few minutes until the coach stopped in front of _Serenity_.

"I don't think we've been followed, _Ji__ějie_." Nola glanced back at her, to each side, and then at the road ahead.

Inara thought about the few members of the press still pursuing a relationship with her, and allowed herself a livid scowl. "Thank you."

"I'll see you in." The young woman moved very swiftly from her place in the driver's seat, looking around intently and pulling her dark cloak near to her body before reaching for the handle of Inara's door.

"I'm not sure that will be necessary." Inara took Nola's hand and squeezed it confidingly, so the noise wouldn't alarm the woman. The noise: loud and abrasive as ever, but Inara smiled warmly, nearly sighing at the sound. Kaylee was swinging open Serenity's side door, calling her name. Inara could see Kaylee outlined in the warm golden light that spilled onto the gravel. She bent down for a moment and set something in the doorway; her steps were quick as she hurried to meet Inara on her way.

In another moment she felt Kaylee's arms around her in a fierce hug. She heard her friend's voice: not words, but a drawn-out, "Ohhhhhhhhhh" on its own special frequency of sympathy and robust affection.

Kaylee broke off the hug, but kept an arm wrapped around Inara's shoulder. "Let's get you home, honey." She looked at Nola and smiled. "Thanks for bringing her back safe."

Nola smiled, made a slight gesture at the door behind her. "I'm assuming _he's_ friendly?"

Inara glanced over the young woman's shoulder to see Jayne lounging at the threshold. "Hey, 'Nara!" He thunked his slab of a hand against the door, causing fresh metallic shrieking. "Who's your friend?" Inara could see his expression change from its usual oafish lust to increasing curiosity and fascination as he took in the way Nola moved. "'Nara," he breathed in a discreet-for-Jayne voice as Inara approached, "that...girl. She's one of them - "

Inara waved dancing fingers to Nola and caught her amused return look. "Nola just got her driver's permit," she explained airily. "Needs the practice."

"Be only polite to invite her in." Jayne's eyes were lit up with several unwholesome things that Inara chose to ignore as she passed him.

Kaylee retrieved the bundle she'd set in the doorway, and returned to Inara's side. An arm went around her again, this time at her waist. "You want to go right up? Didja have dinner?"

Inara nodded and held the little bag up a bit. "I did. I'd like to unpack."

Kaylee squeezed Inara with her free arm. "I'm so glad you're back after all that mess." She paused then and looked up at her friend with sudden, sad worry. "Do you need to be alone?"

Inara shook her head. "Not where you're concerned." She had to smile at Kaylee's beaming relief. "You're good company."

Kaylee laughed, then lowered her voice as they ascended the stairs. "Unlike _some_ people. Soon's Wash told us a Guild coach was fetchin' you home, you shoulda heard all the stuff Jayne was sayin'. Lewd _and_ crude. He supposes there's some kinda vehicle full up with Companions, drivin' around all hot and lookin' to - well, it don't bear repeatin'."

Inara laughed. "Home sweet home." She pushed open the shuttle's door and stepped across the threshold with Kaylee close behind her.

Kaylee set her bundle down on the couch. "Let's get you settled in. Wanna put your stuff away now?"

Inara hadn't taken much, and Kaylee, with her engineer's eye for detail and love of precision, didn't have to ask many questions about where to put a hairbrush or a bottle of lotion. In a few minutes it was done, and the women crossed to the couch.

Kaylee began to unroll the bundle, which Inara recognized as a faded blanket that usually lay folded at the foot of the mechanic's bed. Her friend caught her eye. "This here's my repair kit." Kaylee nodded decisively as a small, dark bottle and a rectangular box became visible.

"I need repairing?"

"Your heart does." Kaylee shook her head, forbidding for all her sweetness. "And don't even think it, it ain't cause you're broken." She paused while she reached into her pocket, retrieving a tiny music chip. "Just got yourself...dented a bit."

"'Dented' doesn't feel wholly inaccurate." Inara smiled as Kaylee found her player and started the music. Stringed instruments and a woman's alto voice, accented like Kaylee's, swelled through the background.

Kaylee turned back to Inara and reached for the blanket again. Shaking it gently, she let it unfold and wrapped it around Inara's shoulders. "Now let's sit you down, sweetie, we got stuff to do."

Inara shook her head a little at her friend's tender bossiness, but sat down nonetheless. "I feel better just being here."

"That's the idea." Kaylee was pouring two glasses of something, Inara noticed with private gratitude, that was not sweet plum wine. She handed Inara a glass and scooted close, wrapping her arm around Inara's shoulder. They sat for a few moments, drinking and listening to the music.

Kaylee's voice was soft. "Want to talk about him?"

Inara listened to the singer as her voice faded out, ending the first song. "Not even a little bit."

"Not even the case of hot purple boils he's come down with? On every square inch of his rat bastard skin?"

Inara found herself chuckling at the brisk cheeriness of her friend's wrath. She shook her head and felt Kaylee's arm tighten around her.

"This next song's a good one." Kaylee's voice grew light, casual, and she patted Inara's arm reassuringly. "And I brought crackers and that veggie stuff to put on 'em." She opened the box. "One time, waiting for Zoe to get back from fetchin' the Cap'n outa...somewhere," Kaylee held up a cracker between her thumb and forefinger, letting Inara take a good look, "Wash put thirty-seven of these babies in his mouth 'fore he choked."

Inara found she couldn't answer through the laughter that shook her. And laughing, she felt the tightness within her lose some of its hold, and smiled in gratitude at her friend.

They sat close together, listening, talking quietly, for more than an hour. The small bottle - Kaylee had named it, something from her home world - was nearly empty.

"She has a beautiful voice." Inara nodded at the music player. She felt Kaylee's shoulder against her cheek as she moved, and wondered if either one of them had fallen asleep for a moment.

"Charity Zhang? _Had_. She's dead." Kaylee frowned at her empty glass, shook her head and shrugged. "Since right after the war. Still the best, though." She smoothed her hand over Inara's hair and took a deep breath. "It's just gonna be crappy 'til it ain't so much."

Inara nodded, knowing her friend could feel her. "Thank you for tonight."

"You gonna be okay?"

Inara sat up, made sure she had Kaylee's eye. "I'll be _shiny_."

Kaylee grinned. "Good night sweetie."

-----------------

He'd heard Kaylee close the hatch to her bunk. Sat at his desk for a while, then found himself climbing his ladder and moving through his ship, looking up at where he'd looked so many times in the past few days. A light was still on in her shuttle, he could see - the door wasn't entirely closed.

Mal called out at the door, softly into the surrounding quiet. "You awake yet?"

Her voice came back, only a little above a whisper. "I am."

He stepped in, taking in the soft-looking nightgown Inara wore. A light silvery grey, it matched the robe she was pulling on, the gleaming sash she was tying high across her ribcage.

"Came to see - well, I expect Dr. Kaylee's got you all set to rights."

Inara glanced at the neatly folded blanket on the back of the couch near where she stood. She reached out a hand and stroked it fondly. "There's no one like Kaylee."

"You stayed away any longer, she woulda come lookin' for you, that one. Gone door to door, if that's what it took. " Mal glanced around the shuttle. No suitcase, no stack of things to see to in the morning. His own stubborn, private anxiety was the only evidence she'd ever left at all.

"I'm grateful to have the situation resolved. It could have been much more difficult."

She spoke the words in the mild, dispassionate way he'd grown to expect, but Mal heard an unconvinced note in her voice. It was odd to see her here, so close again after watching her on the cortex screen. Pursued, maligned, picked at for the entertainment of the good folk of Boros. He could see her collarbone through the wide neckline of her robe, and wondered if she'd been eating.

"We got some soup in the galley. Just - if you're hungry."

Inara looked up, a nearly startled expression fleeting in her eyes. "Kaylee brought me some provisions," she explained when it passed, "and I had dinner with my Sisters."

"Oh. Sure."

"But thank you."

Mal's eye caught a little movement, Inara stroking her forearm, pressing in a little with her thumb and fingers where her hand came to rest above her wrist. Soothing herself, he realized, as the frustrations of the past days rose in him. He'd watched her, unable to protect her in any way. Now she was back, upset, tired, needing comfort, maybe a hand to hold. Someone.

It couldn't be him. Let it be Kaylee, let his mechanic camp out in the elegant shuttle for a month if need be. They'd never had a hand-holding kind of relationship.

"Will you sit?"

She'd moved to the couch, was even now settling herself on it, shifting Kaylee's folded blanket to the middle cushion, tucking her legs under the skirts of her nightgown and robe. She didn't usually sit like that. And the invitation had surprised him. He'd expected a decorous observation about the hour, about keeping him from his bed. Worry pulled at him. He had no business giving what she might think she needed, getting close to her because she was vulnerable and sad.

"Got a few minutes to spare." Mal sat at the end of the couch, knees pointed toward the low table. Curved as the seating area was, he ended up facing her anyway. He sent her a look he judged polite, expectant. She was snuggled into the cushion, one arm draped across her own waist. The other reached out to the blanket between them. She let her finger trace the faded yellow piping along one seam.

Mal." She looked at one of his shirt buttons, then up at him. Soft voice. "It's all right with me. Why you keep me here."

_She knows_. The realization caught his breath a good ways south of his throat, sent currents of desperation all through him. Mal knew he could stand, loom over her, say something dismissive, make her doubt herself or at least keep her notions in her own head. Part of him, too long accustomed to keeping his back to the wall, to practicing a gimlet eye on anyone who got close, simply urged him to take the blow standing. But he kept his place, though his mind growled a silent curse at his own contrariness. _How long has she known?_ Warring emotions, longing and the never-distant anger rose within him. _She doesn't love you back. _A detached part of him reflected on it, her knowing of his love and carrying on as if she hadn't, all these months. He wondered just how bad off Inara was right now, looking to make something useful of his ludicrous feelings for her. _Why would she love you?_

"Actually, it's something I've thought about a lot in the past few days." Her voice was low, and she smiled. "It's been a source of comfort."

She knew. She _knew_, and she was going to speak it into the air. With her voice she would give life to what he felt. For better or for worse. Likely worse. But Mal had known moments harder to endure than this, so he marshalled what he knew about holding on to some dignity in his weakness.

He sent her a brusque nod, squared his shoulders. "Don't think it's 'cause of - the look of you, or what you do, Inara." He wouldn't have her thinking him entirely a fool, some infatuated hump, confusing what she offered on the surface for the true worth of her. "That ain't it. And don't think it's escaped me, how many of your waking hours you choose to spend being an unbelievable pain in the ass."

Mal would have bet money her Prince Charming had never told her that. He felt a rush of fury at the man who'd put her through all this - who'd made her look so forlorn, so disappointed in herself, as though the man's lack of regard for her were somehow her fault. He eyed her challengingly, waiting.

Inara alarmed him by smiling gently, her eyes moving for just a moment to the open door and the view it framed of _Serenity's_ cargo bay. Mal wondered what her point was, what she'd want of him after she'd said her piece. Comfort, reassurance? Him, behaving like a man with a warm and working heart? He thought about what holding her might feel like, thought about how her warmth next to him and her arm around him had worked to dissolve a bit of the horror and panic that had gripped him after he'd had to kill the mindless old wretch who'd attacked Kaylee. Inara was talking. Mal turned his mind to making sense of what she'd begun to say.

"It's business, for the access a Companion gives this ship. Access means jobs, and jobs mean money. But you're not like Janisch." She let her eyes find his. "You're taking care of the people who depend on you, and I respect that." She patted the blanket, gave a little shrug, and continued in a voice gone softer yet. "I'm glad that I can contribute in some way."

She didn't know - she hadn't seen, and he hadn't given himself away. Things between them would remain unchanged. That shouldn't be unduly trying, Mal reasoned to himself, working to ignore the raw feeling in his chest, the wordless protestation he felt everywhere. _ Not like Janisch_. She'd thought on him, while she was away. And though the cynical voice, the most familiar in his mind, mocked at the faint praise of being compared favorably to a manipulative con man who'd brought her humiliation and trouble...it mattered. He felt a pull toward her, the urge to hear her say it again, her soft voice, soft lips against his, while he kissed her and let the gorramn truth out in spite of all.

_Business, _Mal told himself, no matter the sweetness of her, the silvery glow of the nightgown over her curves. _Business_.

She shifted position on the couch, unfolded her legs and smoothed out the skirt that rested so lightly against her skin. Something caught his eye - Mal glanced down, and then up, managing a smile.

"Fireflies on your toes. Starting a new fashion, you two?"

Inara raised her eyebrows and nodded, pretending to consider the possibility. "Stranger things have happened." But he noticed she pulled her legs in, tucking her toes under the hem of her gown where it fell from her knees.

He made an indistinct pointing gesture toward the door behind him. "We're starting off in the morning - got a pick up on Kerry."

"And then on to Persephone." She spoke the words quietly, and as much to herself as to him.

"That's the plan." She had clients on Persephone, Mal reminded himself. He wondered, then, about the nature of it, the compass within her. What was it that she knew, believed, or needed to keep her going, unbuffeted as she seemed to be?

"Good." Inara was quiet for a moment. "I've never been to Kerry."

"Pretty little world. Clean. It's summer there." Mal glanced at Inara. "We'll be touching down in the lake district, there's farms...no one trailing after you down the thoroughfare." He paused and nodded, conceding something. "Unless they're trying to sell you a shoat"

"A shoat?" Inara shook her head, her expression signalling mild curiosity.

Mal held out slightly cupped hands, less than a foot apart. Couldn't help but grin at what he was imagining. "Piglet - newly weaned."

Inara laughed, a bit wearily. "That sounds like just the thing."

They both laughed a little, softly, then fell quiet before Mal spoke again. "He wasn't wrong - that fed. Plain to see that any story featuring you on a - " He stopped, unwilling to repeat the man's cold words about _Serenity_. "You on this ship, Inara, it's an awfully curious circumstance." He waited until he caught her eye before going on, gently but resolute. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" The sorrow in Inara's voice surprised him, and he found himself watching her face closely. After a moment, she glanced fondly around the little shuttle. A smile came, slowly. "This is where my path has led me. This is where I ought to be."

It wasn't that he was empty of questions. _What set you on this path? Why aren't you on some fancy, settled world, living a good and easy life? Why'd you turn down that job and come back here?_ So many possibilities had occured to him, trouble she might be running from, someone powerful she needed to avoid. But he'd heard the pain in her voice. Knew more questions would mean more pain, more sorrow for the woman whom he'd just seen look for comfort under the wings of his ship. His home, painted on her like a talisman, a warding. Mal reckoned himself a heedless bastard most days, but this he would not do. At least not tonight.

He rose to go, stepped away, then turned back to where she was seated and watching him.   "No one has leave," he might have called her by name again, but didn't, "to visit any trouble upon you while you're on this ship."

"No one?" A smile, alluring and resilient mischief gleaming faintly. Her eyes were deliberate as they met his, one brow arched.

"Ah. Just to clarify. No one but me." He grinned, the very image of perverse pride. "I've been told I have a rare aptitude for vexation."

Inara rose and crossed to where he stood by the door. "You were not misled in that." Her wry, merry teasing was such a relief to him.

"So we've got you back."

"Where else would afford me the chance at my very own shoat?" Inara fluttered her lashes extravagantly at the last phrase, smiling as she did. After a moment she went on, more seriously. "Kaylee told me Jayne got stabbed."

"Yeah. A bit." Mal let out an exasperated breath. "Wydell **did** apologize. Was his new guy that did the -" Mal made a fist and traced a short, horizontal motion through the air. "Fella didn't know the ground rules between his boss and me, got carried away a trifle. Jayne's still takin' it personal."

"Imagine that." Her voice, her eyes were candlelit and warm, shining to him. For him. Which wasn't anywhere in the vicinity of right. He turned to go.  Gently she tapped warm fingertips on the bare skin of his arm where he'd recklessly pushed back a cuff. "Mal. Thank you for your concern tonight." Her voice was calm and entirely proper - no promise or innuendo. But she was close, so that she had to tilt her face up to find his eyes with her own.

"Good to see you back and well - I'll be on my way." He didn't check to see if she was startled by his abruptness - she'd had plentiful opportunities to acquaint herself with his sonofabitchery, she shouldn't be surprised and he didn't want to look and see any possible disappointment. Perilous, where he stood, before an Inara who, if at this late hour thought she needed kisses, the consolation of warm skin and whispered words, would damn sure wake with a perfect recollection of all the things that were wrong with him. And she'd find it intolerable, having let him be the one to see her needing. And she'd leave.

More perilous yet, and something he should not have discounted, the clamor within, the love that lived in him and persisted in reaching for her. Arguing doggedly that it could help her, with the right words take her pain away, comfort and support her until she felt confident, invulnerable to hurt, happy again. _Giving, not taking_, it insisted, forestalling his resolutions against exploiting an advantage, and gave him an image of stroking her hair, holding her and telling her that she was a treasure, irreplaceable in all the 'verse, that any man who couldn't see it had not one whit of sense or feeling. His damned secret misfortune, only minutes ago he'd felt that he'd gotten away somehow, her not knowing, and now all his stupid and backpaddling head could think about was taking the hand that had touched him while he told her everything. She'd never have it, he growled to himself between profanities. For all their squabbling, for all his reflexively uncharitable accusations he knew her to be gentle and decent. She'd reproach herself for making him suffer over her. And she'd leave.

Leave her home, the place she wanted and had chosen to be. Maybe the only thing she needed from him. He didn't know why, didn't kid himself that she'd be more forthcoming any time soon, but Mal knew Inara needed _Serenity_.  Realizing this, he found that he could look at her without apprehension of what he might see or do. She'd gone still. Her face wasn't showing anything, but her eyes were shrouded.

"Inara." Mal saw her eyes change when he said her name. Warm again, so beautiful, but now he could return the warmth, for this moment untroubled by all his earlier doubts. _Serenity_ was where they both ought to be. "Welcome home."


End file.
